


Breaking the Wolf

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: A cabin, a wolf, a witch, and a mother. Although their stories are intertwined, one is not like the other and must be eliminated from the equation.





	1. The Woman in the Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this Tumblr post: http://thedoctorsfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/post/172499830563/bus-kids-paranormal-investigators-au
> 
> Title may or may not be stolen from [Vivagrazia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivagrazia/pseuds/Vivagrazia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All she has to do is get to the cabin. Easy, right?

Jemma knows why she's here.

If you asked the agency she worked for, they'd say she was out collecting information about the cabin; a place rumoured to contain paranormal activity. But Jemma knew better.

She'd done her homework.

No one ever came back from this place. All that came back was live footage of a blur of black pouncing the researchers. Jemma had easily deduced that it was a wolf brutally murdering and eating the people who went in.

When she'd done some digging, she'd found out much more than she ever bargained to. The 'research' was more a medieval-style punishment. Everyone who had been sent to research had pissed off the agency in some way, and so they'd fed them to the wolf that Jemma knew they were friendly with.

Jemma also knew that if they found out she knew, she'd be next. So she kept her mouth shut and head down. But, deep down, she'd known they would find out eventually. So, she'd set up a contingency plan: a death switch. The death switch held all the agency's dirty secrets. She had quietly set up an automated email set to go out to every news anchor in the country if she didn't enter a password every twenty-four hours.

If she went down, the agency was going down with her.

Jemma knows that the email would have been sent by now; it's been twenty-five hours since she last entered a password. She receives confirmation of her suspicion when her oxygen is suddenly cut off in her suit, and she tears it off before she suffocates. Is the air out here safe? She doesn't know. But if it's not, she's going to be dead either way, so what's the point?

She can see the cabin up ahead, and she thinks if she can just get inside she'll be safe from the wolf. But then who knows what horrors lie inside? Would she be better dying at the hands...well, the paws, of the wolf, or brave whatever lays inside the cabin?

Jemma doesn't have a chance to make up her mind, because what comes next makes her hairs stand on edge: a low growl from the dark bushes. She draws in a short breath and her head whips towards the source of the noise. She doesn't need any time to know it's the wolf.

"First time they've sent a woman," the wolf speaks out into the night, its voice carrying in a circle. Jemma's gaze follows the noise. She's scared out of her wits. First, she's faced with a wolf, then finds out that it's a talking wolf, and to top it off it sounds _female_. "Never eaten a woman before..."

Jemma's not sure what to do, but she knows that running would be the worst possible option right now, so she simply keeps peering into the shadows. She flinches backwards as the wolf slinks out of its hiding to face her. Its back is slightly arched, as if it's contemplating pouncing, but is unsure. The wolf keeps circling her, and Jemma turns with the wolf, never taking her eyes off the creature.

"Why you?" the wolf asks eventually, halting its prowl. Jemma takes a deep breath and forces herself to answer.

"I...I found out their secret. How they're in cahoots with you. How they send you people to eat as punishment when they piss the agency off."

The wolf licks its chops, staring at her. Jemma stares back, willing it to just kill her already. She'd rather die than be kept in this torturous suspense.

And then it happens. The wolf pounces, knocking Jemma to the ground. It digs its claws into her shoulders, eliciting a cry of pain. But still, Jemma doesn't fight it; she can't. The slightest movement of her arms sends a spike of pain through her body. A moment passes before the wolf speaks again, retracting its claws out of curiosity.

"You're not like the others. You're not afraid to die."

"Well, there's no reason to be," Jemma answers with a long exhale, glad for the relief of her pain. "Nothing can be created, and nothing destroyed. It only changes forms - first law of thermodynamics. Even after I die, my atoms will go on to be another part of nature. A star, maybe. Or a flower. Or a diamond. There's no reason to be scared of changing forms."

Something flickers through the wolf's eyes, but it's too quick for Jemma to determine what exactly what it is. But whatever it was, it causes the wolf to step off Jemma. Jemma sits up, full of curiosity.

"I don't want to eat you," the wolf says. "But I need to get through that door."

The wolf nods in a direction, and Jemma raises her eyes to the cabin door.

"If you can get me through that door, I won't eat you."

That doesn't sound too hard. So, Jemma moves forward to open it, but a few feet from the steps, she lets out an 'oof' and stumbles backwards as she runs into an invisible wall. She looks up to the sky and down to the ground, looking for a clue as to what's causing the anomaly, but she sees nothing. That's odd. She holds her hands up in front of her, and again she feels the invisible wall. She presses against it, but it shows no sign of anything visible or movable. She turns back to the wolf.

"Don't look at me, I'm just a wolf."

Jemma sighs and turns back to her first problem. She can see the sun beginning to try to peek over the horizon, and so she estimates it's about five o'clock in the morning, and she was woken at three in the morning to be brought here, so she figures she's been here about an hour. She files the information away for later use, yawns, and tries several other ways to move forward. None of them are successful.

"What do you know about this wall?" she asks the wolf. If she's to beat this, she needs all the information she can get.

"Not much," the wolf says from beside her, making her draw in a short breath. "All I know is that many people have tried to get across, but none of them have succeeded. People have tried going over, around, through, and under, but none of those have worked."

Jemma pauses. There surely has to be a way to get past. But if none of the directions work...an idea suddenly pops into Jemma's head. "What do you mean by 'under'?"

"I mean...under," the wolf says, clearly confused by the question.

"No, I mean, did they dig, or roll, or what? You stated the direction which they tired; but not the methods used."

"Oh. Well, most try rolling under, but that doesn't work. Some have tried digging, but they gave up after a few minutes because apparently the soil is too tough. Rock-like, they say. Then I usually kill them."

Jemma reflexively swallows, the threat crystal clear. She leans her head against the invisible barricade and thinks. She can't go over, she can't go over, she can't go through, she can't go under. So, where can she go? What can she do? She has to if she's to save her life. She repeats the wolf's words in her head, trying to piece together a clue.

And then it hits her.

"Rocks."

"Huh?" the wolf asks, watching her run to get a stick. Jemma's smiling when she returns, kneels on the ground, and begins to dig.

"Rocks!" Jemma repeats excitedly, using the tone she uses when she discovers something exciting and new in the lab. "You said that people can't dig under because the soil is 'rock-like'. Well, what if they're trying to dig through actual rocks? What if the rocks are the thing holding up the invisible wall?"

"Huh." The wolf sounds impressed.

Jemma digs until her fingers brush against something hard. She then curves around the dirt until she's able to scoop all the dirt away from the rock, and she uses the stick to poke and prod the dirt away from where she can't reach past the wall to remove the dirt. She then pulls the rock out of the ground, and examines it in her hand.

"What are you waiting for?" the wolf prompts, nudging her head with its nose. "Dig up enough to get through."

"Just a minute!" Jemma snaps. "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Well, it can't have been any ordinary rocks that created this supernatural barrier. I'm thinking about what might have been done to it to make it supernatural. It looks like a regular rock, feels like a regular rock," she sniffs it, "smells like a regular rock, but-"

"Yeah, I get it, nerd. Now, keep digging."

The wolf deliberately runs its tongue across the back of Jemma's neck to remind her of what was to happen if she couldn't get the door open. Jemma shudders at the touch. She slips the rock into her pocket and reaches out her hand to see if one rock would be sufficient enough to remove the barrier. It's not. So, Jemma sighs, puts her head down and keeps digging, all around the cabin. It's noon before she's lifted all the rocks from the ground.

It's tedious work, and the sun isn't helping. By the end, she's sweating like nothing else. She holds herself up on all fours, panting hard. Her heart leaps in her chest as some berries are dumped in front of her, and a pail of water is placed beside her. She raises her gaze to the wolf, but it's already chomping on its own lunch. She smiles a bit, grateful for the break, and the food, and she greedily devours it, slopping up the water afterwards, not caring that she spills some on herself.

After lunch, she feels refreshed, and when the wolf barks at her to keep going, she's ready to tackle whatever obstacles stand between her and the door. She kneels again on the ground by a hold she'd dug and carefully pokes the ground in front of her with a stick. The grass immediately springs up and swallows the stick whole. Jemma grimaces. She's definitely taking the stone path up to the house.

Except there's one problem: it's a grid of stones. Which definitely means there's a pattern she has to follow. But what's the pattern?

Jemma crouches down and investigates the carving in the rock sitting at the beginning of the stone grid.

 

_People can find me in the dark_

_In the Light they cannot find me._

_I guess because sometimes I am light,_

_Sometimes I am dark and_

_Sometimes I am both._

_Who am I?_

 

Jemma tilts her head, thinking. Her eyes dart between the board and the riddle. Did the riddle mean a literal or a metaphorical darkness? Was the answer "a lie"? No, that was too generic. And a bit of a stretch.

After wracking her brains for a few more minutes, Jemma sighs and looks up to see if she can get any ideas for the answer. Her eyes quickly find the wolf, and suddenly the answer is clear. Smiling, she stands and takes a deep breath. If she's got this wrong (although she doubts she has; but still, it's possible), she's going to suffer a death far worse than being eaten by the wolf.

But then again what does she have to lose?

She moves before she can scare herself out of it, and steps onto the 'm' on the first row. Nothing happens. She lets out a sigh of relief. She then steps to an 'o', and then another 'o', and then the 'n', and then off. She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She'd made it. She turns back to the wolf, looking very impressed.

"Moon?" Jemma nods, and the wolf nimbly copies where she'd stepped, and soon they're at the bottom step leading up to the porch of the cabin.

Jemma wonders what horrors lay on the step and beyond. Grabbing a stick she'd been holding when she crossed the stones, she pokes the steps. Nothing happens. But Jemma still doesn't quite trust it. She jabs it again. Still nothing happens. So, carefully, and not really having any other choice with the wolf baring its teeth in warning to her, she cautiously lifts her foot and places it on the step, slowly lifting her whole body onto it.

Still, nothing happens. The step is safe, Jemma deduces as she stomps on it to test it fully. But that probably means the porch has some death trap. Jemma pokes it with a stick, and immediately, the wood snaps at it, causing Jemma to squeal and pull the stick back. She tries several other boards, and they all gnash their splinter-teeth at her. She's going to get her feet bitten off if she tries to cross it.

Jemma's eyes rise to the doormat. Something - she's not entirely sure what - but something inside of her tells her that she needs to stand on that, and that alone, to be safe from the snappy boards.

But she also has to consider that she has to get the wolf across, too. She looks up to see if there's monkey bars or something she could use, but there's none. She then looks to her side and sees the banister around the edge of the porch. She _could_ use that, but then how does she get to the door in the centre? She follows her path with her eyes, and sees a very thin window sill, and she laughs to herself and shakes her head. It's stupid, but knows it's the only way to get from the edge to the middle.

"Follow me," Jemma instructs, as she begins to hoist herself up onto the banister, but recoils with a scream as her skin begins to scorch. She checks her hand, and sees that it's red. The banister burned skin, Jemma realises and she curses. Of course her only way would be unusable. The thought makes her so angry that she tears off her sleeves and roughly wraps the material around her hands. She's come too far now to let some burn-wood deter her.

She tries again, and it doesn't burn her clothes. So it's a biological reaction to skin - human skin, at least. As she scoots along on her bottom, she sees the wolf following along, unaffected by the wood. Excellent.

She reaches the part where she has to cross the sill. She turns to the wolf. "Can you walk on your hind legs?"

"What do you think I am, a beast?" Jemma stares at the wolf in a deadpan. "Okay, fair. But yes, I can."

"Good." Jemma then carefully lowers herself onto the sill and inches her way across, being careful not to step on the potted plants. But she has to grip onto the wood on the window as the thorns of the plants viciously scratch at her legs, gradually inching higher. She holds her breath, willing herself not to scream, and to get across before the thorns reached her private parts. That would be worse than being eaten by a wolf.

She jumps and lands on the doormat as the thorns reach halfway up her thighs. Her legs sting and ache, and she's just ready for this to be over.

But it's not over yet, so she forces herself to stand upright, and motions the wolf over. The wolf hesitates, then reaches out its paw and flicks the first pot off the ledge, where it's gobbled up by the boards. The wolf does this with several of the pots it can reach and soon it can step onto the ledge, pressing its belly up against the glass. Jemma pushes the last few pots next to the mat off, so the wolf can get to her. As the wolf goes, it flicks one of its legs out to get rid of the plants.

It's  hilarious to watch from where Jemma's standing. The wolf is spread in a starfish position to keep itself upright, pressed against the glass with its leg twitching every few seconds to knock the plants off. It's kind of like watching a cartoon dog, and if Jemma hadn't been in so much pain and still terrified of the wolf, she would be having a very hard time not laughing.

The wolf eventually reaches the mat, and lowers itself gracefully onto it. Jemma looks at the wolf.

"You going to tell me what's behind this door that you're so anxious to get to?"

"If you let me in, you'll never have to worry about it," the wolf answers, refusing to give any more information.

Jemma relents with a sigh, and begins to open the door.

"Oh, you might also want to stand behind the door when you open it," the wolf adds. "Just saying."

Jemma slowly opens the door and does as she's told, using its wood to shield her. As the door creaks open, the wolf rushes in. A moment later, as Jemma's opened the door fully and is about to peek in, fearing that there'd been a family in there and she'd just let a wolf free on them, a loud, awful, witch-like screech escapes the cabin. Jemma tucks her head in as the screech blows over like a large gust of wind, settling everything in the forest as it goes.

Jemma opens her eyes. Nothing _seems_ to have changed. She quickly prods one of the boards with her foot, and it doesn't do anything. She pokes it harder. Still nothing happens. She stands on the wood. It doesn't snap at her.

She quickly deduces that whatever the wolf killed in there removed the supernatural elements from around and in the cabin. Which probably means she should run, Jemma realises: it's a supernatural thing for a wolf to talk, and if all the paranormal stuff is gone...well, Jemma doesn't exactly want to stick around to find out what happens. But before she can turn and run, a woman appears.

She's Asian, wearing a robe that's hastily been tossed over her, and she's holding a gun, pointed at Jemma. But none of that is what has Jemma gaping. No, Jemma's gaping at her hair.

Her hair is the _exact_ same colour as the wolf's fur was. And when she speaks, her voice is the same as the wolf's.

"Hands where I can see them."

Jemma pales as the truth clicks in her mind. It's not that this woman bears an uncanny resemblance to the wolf. 

This woman _was_ the wolf.

She's too shocked to do as she's told. She's too shocked to fight, or to run.

All Jemma can do is faint.


	2. Twenty-Nine Hours, Two Meals (And a Million Questions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma has a million questions and plenty of time to mull them over.

Jemma doesn’t know why she’s here.

The whole reason she had been at this cabin was to die.

Except, she isn’t dead.

She can understand well enough why the wolf didn’t kill her on first sight - it had needed her to get into the cabin.

What she can’t understand is why she’s  _ still _ alive. What possible purpose could Jemma still serve for the woman to keep her alive?  _ Did _ she still have a use? Was the woman just being compassionate? 

Jemma thinks the woman does have a certain capacity for compassion: she’s been put in a bedroom, rather than thrown into the basement or dungeon, or whatever dank and musty place a prisoner would usually be kept in. Plus, she had woken up to a glass of water and some biscuits on the bedside table next to her. 

But was the whole act of putting her in a bedroom truly an act of compassion? Or was it all a trick to lull Jemma into a false sense of security?  _ Or _ did the cabin not have a proper place to put prisoners? 

It could very well be the last one, as when Jemma had tried to leave the room, she found the door locked, and the windows barred. Since then, Jemma’s had only her thoughts to keep her company, a million questions racing through her mind.

How long had that woman been a wolf?

What is the woman’s name?

Does the woman even  _ have _ a name?

Was she born a wolf, and then gifted (or was it cursed) with a spell that would turn her into a human?

Jemma knows the last one is a bit of a stretch, but she can’t help it: she’s witnessed a wolf entering and a woman emerging from this very cabin, so she knows anything is possible at this point

She tries reasoning, tries to come up with an explanation - any explanation, really - of what had happened, and theories as to what will happen. But it’s difficult when she doesn’t have all the information. Even theories are difficult at this point in time, because it’s not the usual hostage-and-rescue situation she’s used to.

Jemma glances at the clock on the wall from where she’s sitting on the bed, legs over the edge. 

It’s half past eight in the evening.

She’s been awake for seven hours, and has not had a single visit from the woman. She has a panics as she thinks the woman may be long gone, leaving Jemma here all alone, locked in a room to die. 

As soon as she thinks this thought, Jemma chastises herself. There’s no need to jump to the worst of conclusions. There’s a water pail in the corner, so she can survive for longer, even if she doesn’t get any more food. She is going to be fine.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself, relaxing her mind. She needs to be calm if she has been left for dead. Panicking will only cloud her thoughts. 

Jemma swings her body around and leans her back against the head of the bed, her legs stretched out on the bed. Like this, she thinks. She reasons. She develops a plan of escape, should the need arise. 

She can get out of the room easily enough; she just needs to unscrew the door’s hinges somehow. Surely she can find something in the room to help her do that. She can use the handle of the pail as a screwdriver if the worst comes to the worst. Once she’s out the door, she can easily find her way out of the cabin, assuming there aren’t any more traps in place. She’ll have to tread carefully to make sure she doesn’t get hurt or killed.

After leaving the cabin...that’s the hard part. She was brought here with a bag over her head, so she has no idea about which route they took. She’ll have to use the sun as a guide. And perhaps the stars if she can see out the window. She files away stargazing as a potential activity for later that evening.

Jemma stops plotting her escape and goes over to the water pail, feeling her stomach rumble. A small glass of water and a plate of biscuits is far from enough to fill her, and she knows a bit of water will help. She slurps up the water greedily, not caring about rationing it - she knows she’ll die sooner if she rations it. If she runs out, she can always find more later.

Water. That’s another thing she’ll have to consider in her escape plan. She’ll only be able to get so far with determination alone.

When she’s finished drinking, Jemma occupies herself with the deck of cards she found in one of the drawers. She plays with the cards for hours, unable to do much else. She only stops when she feels her bladder start to ache from the strain of holding her urine in. She’s been needing to go for a while now, but there’s nowhere in the room to do it, and so she’s just held it, hoping the woman would come by.

Jemma crawls slowly over to the door and pounds her fist on it, hoping the noise will get the woman’s attention.

“Hello?” Jemma calls out. “Are you there? I need to use the toilet!”

She waits a few seconds for a response, or the noise of footsteps coming to let her out, but there are none. She can’t wait for the woman, or someone else to come for her; she needs to find a place to do it, now.

Jemma sweeps the room with her eyes, her gaze eventually landing on the window. The bars are on the outside, and the window opens upwards, so technically, she could stick herself outside…

“Oh what the hell,” Jemma mutters to herself, going for the window. She’s in the middle of the woods, no one’s going to be around to see her bare butt. Plus, she reasons, anything’s better than the smell of stale urine permeating the room.

Once she’s done, Jemma closes the window and lays back down to continue playing with the cards. The next time she stops is when she begins to feel tired. She looks up at the clock. It’s ten minutes to eleven. She yawns, having been up now for almost nineteen hours. 

Jemma doesn’t know when the woman will open the door, or if she ever will, but Jemma decides the best thing presently, is to try and get some sleep.

So, that’s what she does. She takes off her shoes, socks, jacket (that’s now technically a vest), and lets her hair down, before climbing back into the bed, pulling the covers up over her and falling asleep.

Jemma wakes up when she gets too hot. She rolls over lazily, rubbing at her eyes. The room is quite dark, and so she thinks it’s still early. However, when she looks at the clock, she discovers it’s eight o’clock in the morning. Her gaze drops to the bedside table, where she finds a marmalade sandwich with a glass of orange juice and a glass of water. 

She looks over to the window and sees the blind pulled down. She knows she didn’t pull it down last night, and she doesn’t have magical abilities to conjure up food and drink, so she concludes that the woman is still here.

But why won’t she show herself? Why won’t she talk to Jemma?

Jemma mulls over these questions while she eats the breakfast put there for her, and washes it down with the juice. It’s not the nicest combination, but it’s not too bad. She’s tasted worse. 

After finishing the food and drink, Jemma wonders what to do. She can’t just sit there and wilt away, and there’s only so many games she can play with the cards before she gets bored. Should she sit and wait to catch the woman, or should she try and escape? 

Escape would be a bit rash, Jemma thinks, especially considering she’d only been here twenty-nine hours, and unconscious for about ten of those hours. She doesn’t have enough information to determine how, and whether, to escape. 

Jemma concludes that it’s wisest to wait for the woman to return, and try and draw answers from her. So, Jemma resumes playing with the cards, periodically stopping for a drink to remain hydrated, and once to look at herself in the mirror. She looks awful. She plays for a long while, until she hears the lock on the door click open.

She sits up in anticipation of what she’s going to be greeted with. She almost reaches for something to use as a weapon against the woman if need be, but she stops herself just in time. She’s technically a prisoner, trapped in a confined space, up against a former wolf. Fighting is probably not the best option.

Jemma takes a deep breath in as the door opens and dark brown curls slowly peek over, followed by her eyes, wide and curious. She shuffles in, leaving the door ajar, holding a pointy stick out at Jemma; a warning for her to stay back.

Jemma tilts her head curiously. The woman doesn’t look anything like the wolf. The wolf was vicious, stubborn, and malicious. The woman looks small, unthreatening, and even scared. Jemma wonders what’s gone on in the hours since they’d not seen each other, to make her so fearful. 

Whatever had happened, Jemma knows she can’t fight the woman. Jemma has to help her.

Slowly, Jemma stands, being careful not to move forward, as not to startle the woman. The woman watches closely, her grip on the stick tightening.

“Hello,” Jemma greets softly with a smile. “My name is Jemma Simmons. What’s yours?”

The woman hesitates, narrowing her eyes and looking Jemma over. Jemma waits. Eventually, the woman speaks, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

“Daisy. I’m Daisy.”

Jemma pauses. She wants to ask Daisy about what’s going on, and all the questions in her head, but she doesn’t want to scare Daisy anymore than she already is. She chooses her next words carefully.

“That’s a lovely name.”

For the first time since Jemma saw the wolf, she sees Daisy smile. It’s a tiny smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless. Jemma thinks Daisy’s smile is beautiful, and so she smiles, too. But she doesn’t say anything, waiting for Daisy to make the next move. 

She has to wait for a long few minutes, but Daisy eventually does break the silence.

“Why are you still here?”

The question catches Jemma off-guard. “Pardon?”

“Why are you still here?” Daisy repeats, a little louder. “You could have escaped, but you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m in a locked room with barred windows,” Jemma points out as gently as she can. “Not exactly an escapable situation.”

“The mirror,” Daisy says, her gaze going to the mirror in the corner. Jemma looks at it, too. “There’s another door behind it, unlocked. If you had really wanted to escape you could have found it. Why didn’t you?”

Jemma can’t answer right away, not sure how to answer the question. Why  _ had _ she stayed and not tried harder to get out? 

“I guess I just had too many questions about this whole...thing,” Jemma admits, motioning around vaguely. “And I forgot to look for an alternate escape route.”

Daisy looks bemused, and examines Jemma. Jemma notices her grip on the stick has loosened significantly. She’s feeling more at ease. Jemma finds herself able to breathe easier.

“You’re not like the others,” Daisy muses. “You’re more curious than afraid.”

“Curiosity leaves little room to be afraid,” Jemma reasons. Daisy nods, chewing thoughtfully on Jemma’s words. She lowers the stick.

“I guess you wanna know all about what happened earlier, huh?”

“That would be nice, yes,” Jemma agrees. Daisy motions for her to come, turning and leaving the room. 

Unsure of what else to do, Jemma follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I actually wrote a chapter two for this thing. YAY!!! Hope you like it as much as the first one - it's a bit slower and more exposition-y, but still interesting I hope :)
> 
> (Also see what I did with the title? :D I'm so clever)


	3. The Loyalty Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Agency is dead, but these children aren't. It's up to Melinda to ensure it stays that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** : allusions to child abuse and brainwashing, canon-typical violence

The Agency is dead.

The people who worked there have fled.The building has been burned down, all evidence erased. Not that it mattered anyway - every single file they had was leaked to the public. 

Every.

Last.

One.

No secret had remained hidden.

No one who had worked there was safe. 

Anyone caught by the authorities would surely be put on death row without a trial. 

Melinda May knows some employees chose not to escape, instead letting the fire kill them before the legal system could. She doesn’t feel sorry for them. They chose the end they suffered. Nothing she can do about that. It’s best not to feel anything for them. 

She stands at the edge of the wood, at the top of the hill, a little longer, watching the authorities dig through the rubble. She doesn’t know why she’s so hesitant to leave - she’d hated it there. She’d been forced to work there against her will, and she couldn’t be happier that it’s finally over.

Why, then, can’t she leave?

She glances down at the USB drive in her hand, and rubs her fingers against the faded purple glitter sticker. It had been given to her by the first child they’d taken away as part of the Loyalty Program, fifteen years ago.

Melinda had always hated the Agency, but that program was the one she had hated the most. She’d tried so hard to save so many of them, but she’d failed; the tighter she’d clenched her fist, the more grains of sand had slipped through her fingers. 

All of them had died in the fire, choosing to stay behind and go down with the ship. 

Melinda had only managed to save four children. They were the last four to be taken by the Loyalty Program, so they were young enough for her to save. She’d saved them a few hours earlier, as the Agency crumbled before her eyes.

“Are we going to go?” Robin asks from behind her.

Melinda slides the USB into her pocket, zips it up, and takes Robin’s hand. She doesn’t say anything, instead just leading her over to the three other children waiting, hidden behind a tree. She silently motions for them to follow, and leads them deeper into the woods. 

She doesn’t know exactly where she’s leading them to; she just knows it’s  _ away from here _ . 

It’s somewhere safe.

She knows the Agency will want the children dead. In their eyes, the children are liabilities; loose ends to be tied up. Melinda refuses to let that happen. They deserve better.

 

(They all deserved better)

 

They walk in silence, exempt of a few whispers of encouragement from Melinda, until about noon, when Ace speaks up from the back of the line.

“My feet are getting sore. Can we rest for a bit?”

Melinda turns around and sees the children all nodding in agreement. She looks over their heads. It’s unlikely the authorities followed them, and she knows the Agency will be looking for the children amongst law enforcement agencies to kill them. Her feet are starting to ache too, she notices, and so she decides a little rest couldn’t do much harm.

She motions for the children to sit on a log and she hands them sandwiches that she managed to grab last night before they had to flee. As the kids greedily devour the food, she goes a little way off and pulls out the burn phone she stashed, praying for a signal.

She wishes she could use her real phone, but it’s too risky. Anyone could have tapped into her phone by now, or track it the moment it came on. Better to use an easily disposable phone. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” she wills, moving the phone around, looking for a signal. 

She almost cheers when she does find one, but stops herself just in time. Just because nobody’s following them yet, doesn’t mean there aren’t wild animals out here waiting to gobble them up.

She stares at the phone for a moment, trying to decide who to call. A phone call to the wrong person could end it all. She has to choose wisely. 

In the end, she chooses his number and dials, praying to whatever god there is out there, that she can trust him. After three rings, he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Phil, don’t say anything,” Melinda commands. “ _ Especially _ not my name. Just listen. Are you alone?”

“Just a sec,” he answers. She hears him tell some people in the room that he’s just got to take a call from his cousin in Ohio. 

Melinda huffs a laugh, remembering the time she’d said the same thing to her family when he’d needed her help. She hears him move up some stairs and shut himself in a room.

“Okay, now I am. What do you need?”

She knows he wants to ask her a million questions about what happened last night and if she’s okay, and she’s glad he doesn’t. She doesn’t have the time to answer all of them. 

“Do you still have your pilot license to fly a helicopter?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to meet me at Lake Reginald with that helicopter. Bring enough food, water, medical supplies, and blankets for five people.”

“ _ Five _ ? Mel-”

“ _ Don’t _ say my name!” she hisses.

“-issa, what’s going on?” he corrects himself. Melinda sighs in relief. That was too close.

“I’ll explain everything once you get there. Please, just...hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in three hours, tops.”

“I owe you one, Phil.”

“Nah, consider us even.”

She smiles and hangs up letting out another sigh of relief. Help is on the way. She just has to get herself and the kids there. She slips the phone back in her bag and goes back over to the children.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go.”

“Can we have some water first?” Hope asks. “We’re thirsty.”

Melinda obliges, pulling four small water bottles out of her backpack and handing them to the kids. She managed to grab a pack of twenty plastic water bottles in the chaos last night. She grabs one for herself and gulps it down, leading the children onwards to Lake Reginald.

The lake is in plain sight, so they’ll have to wait at the edge of the wood for Phil to come and then run for the helicopter before anyone sees them. She doesn’t know who exactly may see them, but she’s sure that there will be someone looking for employees of the Agency. 

She doubts the authorities would hurt the children, but it’s better to err on the side of caution and make sure they didn’t get to the kids. 

It takes them about two hours to reach the edge, and Melinda settles them behind a tree, kneeling in front of them to tell them her plan.

“I’ve called a friend, who I trust, to come and take us to a safe place in his helicopter,” she explains. “However, he won’t be here for another while, so we’re going to have to wait here, just in case there’s anyone out there looking for us. When he does come, you’re all going to have to run as fast as you can to the helicopter and get inside, so that any bad people out there can’t get you. Then, we’ll all fly to a safehouse, okay?”

Three of the kids nod, but the fourth, Hope, remains silent.

“Hope?”

“How do we know he’s not bad?” she asks quietly. She looks scared, and Melinda doesn’t blame her. She thinks about her answer carefully before answering.

“He’s saved my life before, and he’s kept every single secret I’ve told him. I trust him with my very life.”

“I don’t,” Hope rebuts. “I don’t know him.”

“Well, do you trust me?” Hope nods slowly. “Then trust me when I say, if he does try to hurt you, which he won’t, I’ll beat his ass senseless. I’m not going to let  _ anybody _ hurt you, okay?”

Hope nods. “Okay.”

They wait about forty minutes before they hear the sound of a helicopter. Melinda gets the children to press their backs against the trunks of the trees, just in case it isn’t Phil, and she peeks out from her hiding place, smiling when she sees the familiar red helicopter touching down just over the bridge.

She ducks over to the children, motioning for them to bunch together behind one trunk, and she waits for Phil to open the door.

“Go!” she urges them the moment the door begins to slide open. 

She knows it will take about ninety seconds for the kids to sprint across the bridge and climb into the helicopter. She just hopes it’s enough time. It will take her about fifty seconds to run the same distance, and so the second the kids take off towards the helicopter, she starts counting the seconds. 

She’s reached forty-three seconds when she hears a twig crack behind her. Her head whirls around, and she sees, at the top of the hill, leading down to the lake, several high-up employees with automatic weapons. She doesn’t think they’ve seen her yet, but she’s not waiting for them to.

She takes off running. She doesn’t know how long she’ll have before they reach the edge of the wood (probably only a number of seconds), but she does know she’ll either be on, or over the bridge, by the time they do. She just has to hope she’s over the bridge; they won’t be able to shoot her easily once she’s made it across.

They’re faster than she anticipates, opening fire when she’s only halfway across. She pushes herself to her limit, leaping and grabbing onto the edge of the helicopter as Phil lifts off. She pulls herself up and in, crying out in pain as a bullet rips through her right leg. She lets go, the kids being the only thing to stop her fall. They all grab onto her, keeping her half inside the vehicle until she can grab onto a seat and haul herself in, slamming the door behind her.

“You okay?” Phil calls from the pilot’s seat, taking the helicopter higher and farther away from the forest. 

“I’ll live,” Melinda calls back. “Just get us to the autumn safehouse!”

She reaches for the First Aid Kit to patch herself up, and it’s then that Katya finally speaks. 

“What’s an autumn safe-house?”

Melinda smiles, just a little bit, as she cleans herself up. “It’s one of our safehouses. A while back, Phil and I bought a bunch of houses to use as safehouses, and we bought the autumn safehouse during fall, hence the name.”

The kids accept the explanation and go for the food Phil brought. Ace stops them right before they dig in and looks to Melinda.

“Can we?”

“It’s what it’s there for.”

Melinda winces and tries not to make too many noises of distress as she patches herself up, not wanting to frighten the children. They’re scared enough as it is - on the run from people who want them dead, and probably never going to see their parents ever again. Melinda considers the latter a small mercy; she knows what the Agency made children in the Loyalty Program do. It was better these four lost their parents to the Agency or the law. 

They soon arrive at the safehouse, and Phil gets the children inside before coming back to help a limping Melinda. 

“You’re going to tell me everything, right?” he asks, helping her sit down in a chair. 

“Yes. But first, you have to repaint your helicopter.”

“Why?”

“The Agency now knows what it looks like. They’ll be looking for a red helicopter. Repaint it. Now.”


	4. Ophelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Daisy became a wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** use of magic, canon-typical violence, mentions of Hyrda

The woman came at midnight.

Daisy wasn’t scared; she’d received a note from her mom saying that this was going to happen, and that she should go with the lady, because the lady would keep her safe, and she wouldn’t have to stay here anymore. Daisy was glad. She hated it here. The lights were too bright, the hall smelled weird, and she was kept in a room all by herself, and wasn’t allowed to see mom unless Sir allowed her to.

She didn’t know SIr’s actual name. All she knew is that she had to call him Sir, always. 

When the woman did come, Daisy was very happy to see her. She knew her immediately, when she saw her.

She was quite tall. Her smile was quite nice and made Daisy feel safe. Her eyes were brown, kind of like Daisy’s, except a bit lighter. Her hair were brown, with green tips, making her look like a mermaid.

“Are you a mermaid?” Daisy spoke her thoughts as she took the woman’s hand. The woman laughs quietly and shakes her head.

“I wish, sweetie.” Daisy liked her voice. It was soft and comforting. “This green is just hair dye.”

“Oh.” Daisy was a little disappointed. “It still looks cool, though.”

“Thank you, Daisy,” the woman said. “But now, we have to be very, very quiet. No one can hear us, okay?”

“We have to be as quiet as mice?”

“Even quieter.”

Daisy’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and she nodded solemnly. She let the woman lead her from the room, and walked on her tiptoes, being as quiet as she could. She stopped when the lady did, let the lady hide her from guards roaming the hallways, and followed the lady outside.

Once outside, the lady put her in her car and drove her away. Daisy looked out the window at the darkness all around her and yawned.

“Where are we going?” she asked, feeling sleep overtake her.

“To my cabin in a forest a couple of hours away. Try to get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Daisy did as she was told, and nodded off to sleep.

She was awoken a while later when the lady shook her. “Hey, Daisy, sweetie, I need you to walk for a little bit.”

Daisy hummed wearily, but managed to open her eyes enough to get out of the car and walk up to the path to the cabin, and up the stairs to the bedroom the lady had prepared for her. She managed to take her shoes and socks off, and climbed into bed, not bothering to take her clothes off.

She fell asleep again before the woman had even finished the blankets up over her.

She woke up again later, when the sun was high in the sky, and she very quickly remembered what had happened last night. She stretches, gets out of bed, and goes downstairs, wondering if the lady had breakfast for her. 

The woman was at the table, crunching on some toast. She smiled when she saw Daisy.

“Good morning. Would you like some toast for breakfast?”

Daisy nodded eagerly, climbing up onto a chair as the woman finished her own toast and went back into the kitchen to make some for Daisy. Daisy looked at her options for what to put on top. There was strawberry and apricot jam on the table. Daisy wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like jam.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing in her chair and turning around. “Is there any peanut butter?”

The woman huffed a laugh. “Okay, first, when you’re in a chair, you need to sit down, no standing. Secondly, yes, in the pantry. I’ll get it for you when your toast is ready.”

Daisy pouted at the rule of having to sit down, but she did so anyway. This lady had saved her from that place she had to stay, and so she didn’t want to upset the lady. A few minutes later, a plate of toast appeared in front of her, along with a knife and a jar of peanut butter. 

“Would you like some butter, too?”

“No, thank you,” Daisy said, remembering how her mom had always told her to use manners. “I’ll just eat with peanut butter.”

The woman left her alone to eat, and Daisy wolfed down her toast, really hungry. Once done, she got down off her chair and was about to go back to the room to get changed and maybe have a bath, when the lady stopped her.

“Bring your plate up, please.”

Daisy scurried back, putting her knife on her plate and handing it up to the lady. Then she ran off to clean herself up. When she came back down, she watched the woman finishing up washing the dishes.

“What’s your name?” Daisy asks, peering over the countertop. The woman turned and smiled at her.

“You can call me Ophelia.”

“That’s a funny name,” Daisy giggles. Ophelia leant over and booped her nose, making Daisy scrunch her face up and rub at it.

“No funnier than Daisy.”

Soon after, Daisy and Ophelia settled into a rhythm of this new home life. Ophelia took care of her, and Daisy lived there comfortably. It was almost as if Ophelia became her mother, but Daisy refused to let that happen; she wouldn’t forget about her mom. She hoped her mom would come and get her someday.

Years pass, and one day, a fourteen-year-old Daisy came down from her room, intending to get a snack, but she paused when she heard Ophelia on the phone.

“I don’t  _ care _ what she wants,” Ophelia snapped. Daisy lowered herself to the ground and peered through the gap to see Ophelia pacing while talking. “Your job is to get those rockets, not to please her.”

There’s a pause before Ophelia speaks again.

“Then use the Incentives Program. I’m sure she’ll be  _ more _ than cooperative.”

Wait, Incentives Program?

Daisy knew she’d heard that term before. She thought back, racking her brain as hard as she can. She has a memory of her mother, explaining in the note that she was part of the Incentives Program, and that’s why she had to go with Ophelia in the first place.

But, why would Ophelia be insisting the program be used if she’d rescued Daisy from…

Oh crap.

Realisation dawned on Daisy and she threw her hand over her mouth to stay silent, hear heart speeding up. She flinched when Ophelia bumped the table, and her eyes flicked down, following the thing that fell off. She chomped down on her lip to keep from making any noise as she read the badge that had fallen.

_ Madame Ophelia ‘Aida’ Hydra _

_ Head of Hydra Agency _

Beside the writing, there was a picture of Ophelia’s face, smirking, against a background of the Hydra octopus. Daisy swallowed hard. Even before being taken by the Agency, she’d heard about Hydra and how evil they were. 

And now she found out that the Agency is Hydra. 

She’d been in Hydra’s grasp all this time.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from panicking. What did Ophelia want with her? Why would Ophelia lie to her mom?

Daisy slunk backwards, fully intending to take what she could, and run. To where, she didn’t know. She just knew she had to get away from here.

As quietly as she could, she snuck towards the back door, knowing that there was a path to a back road that lead to the main road. Daisy knew that because she’d snuck out multiple times while Ophelia was out, just for fun.

Now, she had to use it for her safety. The back door was halfway open when Ophelia spotted her.

“Daisy, where are you going?”

Daisy’s head whipped around and she couldn’t hide her fear. She backed away as Ophelia walked forward.

“Wh-Wh...stay back!”

Ophelia’s gaze dropped to the floor, where she saw her badge. She sighed, picking it up. Daisy saw her momentarily debate whether or not to reason with Daisy, and bring her over to her side, but she ultimately decided against it, knowing Daisy’s prior knowledge.

She sighed, motioning for Daisy to come back.

“No need to put up a fight,” she said coldly. 

A shiver ran down Daisy’s spine. Ophelia had never used that tone of voice with her before. Yes, she’d been angry and upset, but never cold and calculating. Daisy gulped, stepping back again. 

“Come back in, and I promise you won’t get hurt.”

“Y-You...what have you been doing with me these past eight years?” Daisy stammered out, feeling tears burning in her eyes.

Ophelia sighed again, impatiently this time. “What I’m doing is none of your business. What is your business is coming quietly, or suffer the consequences.”

Daisy really wanted her mom right now. She’d make it all better, and kick Ophelia’s ass, no problem. She glanced, sideways, seeing a piece of firewood on the back porch. She could use that, and-

She didn’t get to finish her thought as Ophelia moved forward faster than should be humanly possible, grabbing Daisy and dragging her outside, kicking and screaming. She struggled against Ophelia, but she was way too strong.

Daisy was thrown down a little way off, and she pushed herself up.

“Last chance, Daisy,” Ophelia warned. “What’s it going to be?”

Daisy thought about it. Ophelia had taken care of her for years; kept her warm and fed and healthy, and perhaps even loved to some extent. She had everything she could want inside that cabin. She could continue to have it if she simply chose to ‘forget’ what she’d seen.

But what price would she have to pay?

Daisy pondered this thought as she looked from Ophelia to the cabin. What would mom think if she chose to stay willingly? Would she understand? Would she be disappointed in her?

What if the price Daisy would pay was forgetting her mother, or worse, not caring about her mom anymore?

A sob lodged itself in Daisy’s throat at the thought, and she knew she couldn’t stay, no matter how much she wanted to. She knew she’d probably die the second she shook her head, but she still shook it anyway, looking at Ophelia’s face.

Ophelia looked back with an all mighty rage, drew a stick, pointed it at Daisy and said a word that Daisy couldn’t quite hear over the flash of black matter that came from it. Daisy felt herself physically morph and change. Her body changed shape, her skin became soft and itchy, her eyes became narrower and larger, her nose extended itself.

She felt sick to her stomach as the transformation took place, and she let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a gasp as she fell from the air where she had been suspended, just barely landing on her feet.

She looked down, and saw she now had paws. She shook her body. It was the same shape as a dog’s. Even as she wiggled her hips, she could feel a tail brush against her back legs. Back legs? She yelped, not liking that feeling, nor the feeling of how her mouth felt way too long.

She looked helplessly up at Ophelia, standing there with a wicked grin on her face.

“What did you do?” Daisy demanded, rushing at her. She grunted as she came into contact with an invisible wall between her and Ophelia.

“Turned you into a wolf,” Ophelia said with a sickening sweet grin. She crouched down to Daisy’s eye level. “To match your personality.”

“Wha-no!” Daisy couldn’t stop teas from spilling down her face, and she propped herself up on her hind legs against the barrier pleadingly. Ophelia shook her head, her smile disappearing and being replaced with a harsh look.

“You brought this on yourself, Daisy. Have fun being out here, away from me, just like you wanted.”

With that, Ophelia turned and went back into the cabin, leaving Daisy outside all by herself, to try and learn how to fend for herself in the middle of the wood.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO NOT WORRY FRIENDS I have not forgotten about this story. Chapters may be a bit slower since I'm writing the DaisyPete AU, too, but rest assured: I will finish this story. I will not leave you hanging for too long.


	5. Sunset, Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firsts are hard; everything is brand new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** graphic descriptions of a wolf eating prey, blood and gore, appearance and use of a gun

The first night was the hardest.

Daisy had never been by herself, at night, in the middle of the woods. She’d never been a wolf either, so the whole experience was very new and very scary. She’d spent a couple of hours desperately trying to get back to the cabin, just wanting to be inside. She regretted her decision immensely.

Yes, she knew to get back in would come at a price, but she was willing to pay that price if it meant she didn’t have to be alone. She was just a kid, for Pete’s sake.

She was scared. She just wanted a hug.

When deciding that getting back inside wasn’t an option, Daisy had stood there and cried. Cried because she was scared. Cried because she felt so alone. Cried because she couldn’t handle this, dammit.

After crying, she figured out how to tuck her legs under her and lower herself to the ground, laying her head down right next to where she knew the invisible barrier began. She lay there, doing nothing. She didn’t know what to do. She had no idea how to live as a wolf.

It was late afternoon when she started getting hungry. She raised her head, looking around for a food source. Her gaze turned to the cabin, knowing full well there was all the food she could ever want, inside. But she also knew she could never get back in there, maybe not ever. And she doubted Ophelia would come out and feed her.

She’d have to find her own food. But how?

Her ears perked up and senses heightened when she heard the sound of something moving nearby. She swept the area with her eyes, searching for whatever it was. Her eyes landed on a little bird, minding its own business, hopping along the ground, in search of food for itself.

She subconsciously licked her chops, thinking about how to pounce it without it getting away. Ve-e-e-e-ery slowly she stood, being careful to not make any noise, lest she scare her dinner. She put her front paws forward, arching her back, getting ready to pounce.

She waited for just the right moment…

Then pounced.

She caught the bird under her paws, squashing the bird until it stopped struggling; until it stopped breathing. She moved her paw slightly, checking that the bird was dead. When satisfied, she paused. She couldn’t exactly make a fire to cook the bird and eat it. But she couldn’t eat raw meat, either…could she?

Her stomach rumbled again, and Daisy decided it didn’t really matter. She’d die if she didn’t eat. She’d rather die later from worms than die now from hunger.

Daisy yanked the feathers off the bird best she could with her claws, until there was a patch she could bite into. As soon as she did, she felt an odd sensation of pleasure. An oddly familiar feeling of feral satisfaction. Almost as if she’d been eating raw meat her whole life, then hadn’t been granted that desire in a long, long time, and she was just now getting to eat it again.

She wolfed down the bird, enjoying every moment – the pleasant chewiness of its flesh, the way the blood flavoured the meaty bits like a marinade, the sloppiness of it all.

After finishing, Daisy smacked her chops and looked around for more food. One little bird wasn’t really that much food, leaving her unsatisfied. She raised her nose and sniffed at the air, trying to locate perhaps an already dead animal to gobble up.

She stood straighter when she smelled blood. It smelled fresh, so while the animal may not be dead, it would be wounded enough for Daisy to be able to pounce it, kill it, and eat it. She didn’t feel particularly bad about it; she’d always been an eager meat-eater as a human, and now as a wolf, it was kill or be killed, so she rolled with it.

She bolted in the direction of the blood. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the wounded creature: it was a deer, laying on its side, bleeding out. She bounded over eagerly, sinking her teeth into its neck to put it out of its misery, before tearing into it. It tasted _so_ good compared to the bird. If the bird had been a deep-fried patty, the deer was the equivalent to a Thanksgiving turkey.

She was in the middle of tearing off another chunk of the deer when a bullet whizzed over her head. Her head snapped up to see a hunter a little way off, rifle raised.

“Hey!” he shouted. “That’s mine!”

Daisy yelped and ducked her head as he fired another shot in her direction. She finished tearing off the chunk of deer, and, clamping it between her teeth, she ran, avoiding more bullets that flew in her general direction.

Once safely hidden amongst the trees, she dropped the chunk of deer on the ground, stopping to catch her breath. Her tummy hurt from eating so much before sprinting off. She now understood why mom always made her wait for a bit after a meal before letting her run around outside.

Mom.

Daisy swallowed a sob as she thought of her mom. She knew she was never going to see her mom again, even though she was the woman Daisy wanted most in that moment. Someone to tell her it would be okay, and she would get through it. Someone to hold her and let her cry.

But she’d never get that now.

She felt a sudden surge of anger towards Ophelia. How dare she? How dare she trick Daisy’s mom into trusting her? How dare she take care of Daisy, and even pretend to love her, only to cast her out at her own convenience? How dare she do this to everyone else she caught in her jaws?

Daisy knew there had to be other kids trapped in The Agency, and that Ophelia was responsible for all of it. She tore into the remaining deer, eating it angrily. After finishing her meal, Daisy threw back her head in a roar, and pounded a nearby tree with her paws until she collapsed out of exhaustion.

Laying on her side, Daisy finally began to cry, letting it all out. Mom had always said it was better to cry than to become angry; that tears washed away the pain of the soul. So, that’s what she did. She cried, and cried, and cried, until she couldn’t cry anymore.

Once her tears subsided, Daisy noticed the muscles in her paws ached from all that pounding. She’d have to avoid that in the future. She breathed deeply, having no desire to get up. But she knew she had to. She was so incredibly thirsty and needed to find water.

With a great effort, she picked herself up and padded back up to Ophelia’s cabin, circling the perimeter in search for any sign of water. Perhaps Ophelia had been merciful and left her something. But she really should have known better. There was no sign of anything. No sign that Ophelia was even still there; still alive.

Daisy hung her head, only to pick it up when her nostrils picked up the scent of water. Her eyes glistened with enthusiasm as she spotted the rainwater tank, located a few feet outside of the invisible barrier around the cabin. She should be able to get up there and get some water.

Daisy wagged her tail, looking around for a vantage point she could use to climb up and get to the water. She quickly spotted a tree on an angle, apparently having fallen over during a storm, not too far from the tank. She could run up that and jump onto the tank. The distance didn’t look too long.

So, she did. She ran up and launched herself in the air. However, she had misjudged the distance, and so she scurried mid-air momentarily, before dropping to the ground with a _thud_.

“Owwwww….”

She slowly stood up, shaking her head. That had _really_ hurt. And she felt a bit winded. She’d have to put more momentum behind her jump. She tried again, pushing off the tree harder than before. She flew through the air, quite high off the ground. Her feet touched the top of the tank, and she scrambled to get her balance before she fell off.

This time, she was successful.

Smiling, she pushed off the covering and ducked her head, lapping up the water eagerly. But even as she drank, she knew she couldn’t jump every time. She’d have to come up with another system to get to the top of the tank.

But that could wait for tomorrow.

The sun was getting real low, and she jumped down, landing somewhat clumsily on her feet. She wandered right up to the invisible barrier, stopping when she felt it brush against her fur, and laid down next to it. She laid her head between her paws and blinked wearily as the sun set behind the trees.

Daisy wanted to close her eyes, but she was too scared to. What was going to happen to her come nightfall? Was she going to die from the cold? Was she going to be gobbled up by a creature bigger and scarier than her? Was Ophelia going to do more magic and punish her even more than she already had?

For the first time in her life, Daisy knew true terror. The kind that grips at every fiber of a person’s being, making them hyper alert. They can’t eat, they can’t sleep, they can’t focus on anything except the fear they feel. The kind that slowly kills a person, more painfully than anything else ever could.

Daisy turned to look inside the cabin. The lights were being turned on in preparation for nightfall. She didn’t know what Ophelia’s up to. Did she regret throwing Daisy out? Did she feel as sad and scared as Daisy does? Could she feel any human emotion at all?

In that moment, Daisy decided she didn’t care about any of the consequences. She just wanted a warm, safe place to be, not stuck outside in the dark and cold. She stood up again, her legs wobbling, and she made her way around to the path leading up to the house.

“Ophelia?” she called out. “Ophelia?”

The door opened, and Ophelia stepped out onto the porch, taking in Daisy. Daisy thought she must have been a sorry sight indeed, standing there, eyes wide and sad, her tail quite literally between her legs.

“What?”

“P-Please let me back in,” Daisy pleaded. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to find out, and I didn’t mean to be rebellious, and I’m sorry. Please don’t make me stay out here like this. Please let me back in. I promise I’ll never be bad ever again.”

That was all Ophelia had ever demanded from her. Obedience. Daisy would give anything to be back in there.

Ophelia considered her, slowly descending the porch, walking down the stone path right towards her. She stopped just a foot away, separated by the invisible barrier. She crouched down to Daisy’s height.

“I gave you more than one chance to change your mind earlier,” Ophelia reprimanded. “There are no more. You chose your fate.”

“But-“

“No buts, Daisy,” Ophelia cut in. “There is no more mercy here. You’ll stay out here, as a wolf, for the rest of your life. Or, at least, for the rest of my life.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“The magic I cast around the place on you,” Ophelia explained. “It’s only temporary. The magic around here will hold until I die, or someone finds a way around it, which is very unlikely, it’s quite advanced. The wolf thing, however, that will only be broken when I die. By which time, you’ll be a decrepit old woman, not even worthy of life anymore.”

Daisy began to tear up. “But…you can’t!”

“Already did. Now, be a good girl and stay where you’re meant to.”

Ophelia smirked smugly at her, adding salt to the wound. With that, she stood up and retreated back into the cabin, Daisy calling out to her, still begging. Daisy’s pleas only stopped once the cabin door slammed shut, leaving her alone, in the dark.

Pitifully, Daisy laid down right where she was, and tried to get some sleep. It wasn’t easy, the slightest sound would wake her up. She didn’t sleep for very long, her body seeming to resist sleep. It was only in the middle of the night that she remembered: as a wolf she was now nocturnal. Sleep would have to wait a few more hours.

Sighing, she got up and wandered around, periodically wandering off to find more food. She figured out how to set up various twigs and branches and rocks to make a ramp up to the rainwater tank. She prowled the perimeter of the cabin multiple times, looking for a way around the magic.

As the night went on, Daisy didn’t feel less afraid, although she was starting to feel more determined than fearful, and that emotion began to overtake her fear. By sunrise, she had made herself a promise:

She was going to get inside that cabin and kill Ophelia if it was the last thing she ever did.


	6. Six Hundred and Eighty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only she had done something sooner. If only she had been able to save more children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** mentions of abduction, mentions of brainwashing and training children

Six hundred and eighty-one.

Six hundred and eighty-one children were taken by the Loyalty Program. Melinda has all of their names written down. All of their names, and the names of their parents who had been forced to work at the Agency, just as she had been. 

She looks at the names now, written down in order of when they were taken. She looks at the photos she’s stuck next to the names. She’d put the photos there so that the child was remembered for who they were, and didn’t become just another name lost amongst the statistic. 

She takes the time to remember each child, and mourn them. She remembers who they were before they were taken by the Agency. She feels the pain of their parents, having their baby ripped away from them. 

She reads a name.

She looks at the photo.

She cries.

She repeats. 

Six hundred and eighty-one. 

And she was only able to save four of them. 

Melinda bows her head, whispering a prayer to a god, begging for forgiveness for not being able to save more. She feels like such a failure. If only she’d tried harder, she could have saved more. If only she’d had the guts to act earlier, she could have saved more.

If only.

If only.

If only.

The guilt gnaws away at her, though she knows there’s not much she could have done. Those kids had been dead set on remaining loyal to the Agency. There was nothing she could have done, she knows that.

It still hurts like hell, though.

On the flip side, if she had acted earlier, the Agency surely would have caught her and sent her to her death. She would have died, and all chances of finding her daughter again someday would have been stripped away. 

But would it have been worth it to save more children?

Melinda doesn’t know. Now, she’ll never know. 

She doesn’t look up when Phil enters again, several hours later, although she’s aware he’s back. 

“Finished painting the chopper,” Phil states, sitting down next to her with a drink. “We’re safe now.”

Melinda wants to tell him they’ll never be safe, not as long as employees of the Agency are still out there. But she doesn’t. He doesn’t need to hear that right now. She looks again at the notebook, open on the first page. There, at the top, is a picture of her daughter, her name beside it. Melinda had picked her favourite photo. 

It was of her baby girl on picture day when she was in the first grade. Her hair was pulled up into the two most adorable pigtails, and she was grinning the same cheeky smile she always wore. Melinda remembers on that day she was wearing her favourite rainbow top with a pair of denim overalls, and her light-up shoes she’d gotten for her sixth birthday. 

But mostly, Melinda remembers how happy she was. How excited she was to show off her favourite outfit to everyone, and have her picture taken. 

Melinda’s eyes drop, reading the names of the next four who were taken: Matilda, James, Sophie, and Charlie. Beside her, she hears Phil shift. She knows he wants to say something, to ask, but wants her to speak first. She knows he doesn’t know which question he should ask. 

She sighs softly, then speaks.

“Six hundred and eighty-one.”

“Pardon?” Phil sounds caught off guard. She looks up at him.

“Six hundred and eighty-one. That’s how many children were taken by the Agency. I have all their names written down.”

She passes him the notebook, letting him skim through it. She watches his expression as it morphs from pure curiosity to troubled and curious. He passes it back.

“What did they want with the children?” he asks.

“To create soldiers,” Melinda answers flatly, her voice quiet. “They wanted soldiers who would obey orders without question, so they took young children from their parents and trained them up to be just that. They’d make the child’s parents work for them, too.”

Phil is silent, and Melinda waits patiently, staring straight ahead, as he thinks about what he’s just heard, and how to respond. After a wait, Phil finally speaks, his voice dripping with disdain and disgust. 

“That’s messed up.”

Melinda huffs a laugh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

She feels Phil’s hand rest on her shoulder. She closes her eyes, already knowing what he’s about to say. 

“You did your best, Mel.”

She shakes her head. “I could have done better.”

Phil sighs. “Four is better than none.”

She can’t argue with that. She drops her head again, feeling tears sting in her eyes. She turns to look at Phil.

“I wish I could have saved more.”

“I know.”

He pulls her in close, and she rests her head on his chest, letting herself finally let go. She lets go of all her anger, all her resentment, all her guilt, all her pain, and sobs against his chest. He simply holds her and lets her cry. 

She cries for a long time. She cries until there are no more tears left to cry. Phil holds her the entire time. Once her tears have subsided, Phil speak again. 

“Four is better than none.”

“Five if you count her,” Melinda corrects quietly, pointing to the picture of her daughter. “I had a woman named Ophelia rescue her several months after we got dragged in. She’s still out there.”

She tilts her head back to look at Phil and sees a mixture of affection and exasperation in his features. He sighs, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“You’re about to drag me on one of your crazy adventures, aren’t you?”

Melinda grins, genuinely grins, for the first time in years. 

“Yep.”


	7. How to Be Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's there for Daisy as she's forced to confront her human-ness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** mentions of a dead body, shattering of plates

Ophelia’s dead on the floor.

Jemma tires to ignore it as she accepts the sandwich Daisy tried to make for her. It’s haphazardly put together, with the peanut butter not evenly spread. Still, she doesn’t say anything, not wanting to upset Daisy. She still doesn’t know why Daisy hasn’t killed her, and she’s not particularly keen on changing Daisy’s mind.

“You don’t like it,” Daisy accuses from where she’s sitting. Jemma looks up.

“Hmm?”

“The sandwich. You don’t like it.”

“No, that’s not true!” Jemma defends. “It’s just, scientifically speaking, when a person hasn’t eaten for a long while, their stomach can only take in little bits of food at a time-”

“Stop lying to me,” Daisy demands. Her tone isn’t angry, only flat. Jemma puts the food down, unsure of what to say. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“I know,” Jemma sighs, deciding it’s not worth trying to lie to Daisy anymore. “But I’ve been getting better at it. And I am sorry for not enjoying the food, it’s just...not very expertly made.”

“No, ‘s fine,” Daisy mutters, poking at her own sandwich. “It’s my fault, anyway. If I hadn’t pissed off Ophelia all those years ago, maybe I’d know how to make a decent sandwich.”

Jemma’s lips twitch upwards at that, and she again glances over at Ophelia’s corpse. “Forgive me for asking, but why haven’t you disposed of her body yet?”

Daisy shrugs, resting her head in her hand. “Being a wolf I mostly ate corpses. Not exactly a pro at hiding dead bodies.”

Daisy sighs, grabs both her and Jemma’s plates and takes them up to the kitchen, only to trip over her own two feet on her way, sending the plates crashing to the floor, breadcrumbs and hardened clay shards everywhere. Jemma’s crouching by Daisy in an instant.

“Easy, easy,” she says softly. “Don’t move too much, you might accidentally cut yourself.”

Daisy holds herself up with her arms while Jemma grabs the broom and dustpan from the cupboard under the sink and cleans up the mess best she can. She’s managed to get most of the shards and crumbs cleaned up when she hears a soft sniffle. 

She looks over at Daisy, whose head is bowed, her hair covering her face. Jemma knows it’s her crying, who else could it be? Gently, she shifts to her knees and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, nearly recoiling when Daisy flinches. 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” she asks softly. Daisy timidly looks up and Jemma’s heart clenches in her chest. Daisy looks so sad, and scared, and vulnerable. 

“I can’t be a person,” Daisy whispers. 

“What do you mean?”

“I-I’ve been a wolf so long I don’t know how to be a person anymore,” Daisy sobs out. “I...I can’t use a phone, I can’t make a decent sandwich, I can’t even fucking stand properly! I...I…”

Jemma cuts her off, pulling her in close for a hug. “Hey, no, shh, it’s okay.”

Daisy seems surprised by the action, but quickly relaxes into it, her fists clutching at Jemma’s shirt. She lay against Jemma and wept for as long as Jemma would hold her. Jemma holds her until her tears have subsided, and all that’s left are a few hiccoughs. Jemma rubs circles on her back, gently rocking her.

“There, there,” Jemma soothes. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Daisy stays in Jemma’s arms a little while longer, before pushing herself up into a sitting position and swiping at the remaining tears. She looks down at the floor, ashamed to have been bawling like a baby.

“Sorry.”

“Hey, no, no need to apologise,” Jemma says softly, cupping one side of Daisy’s face in her hand so she’s forced to look at Jemma. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re trying to readjust, and that’s hard. There’s no need to apologise for crying about it.”

Daisy drops her eyes, although doesn’t pull away from Jemma’s touch. It feels so nice, and Daisy finds herself relaxing against it, and she hums in response. When Jemma speaks again, Daisy can hear the smile in her voice.

“If you want, I could help you learn how to be a person again.”

Daisy’s gaze snaps up. “Really?”

Jemma smiles and nods. “Really.”

It’s Daisy’s turn to smile, and look away again shyly. “I’d like that.”

Jemma huffs a laugh, and her hand drops from Daisy face to help her stand. 

“Okay. Let’s start by teaching you how to have a shower. Get all those tears and mucus washed off of you.”

Jemma supports Daisy as they leave the room and head back up the stairs. Jemma takes one last look back at the body in the living room before she turns her attention back to Daisy. She misses the flicker of green light that crackles in the fireplace, above Ophelia’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had a 3k word essay I had to finish last week, but now that it is done I can focus my energies onto writing more of this :)


	8. Defiance, Compliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her ninth night out in the woods, Ophelia comes out and gives her a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** mentions of rewarding of compliance, a lot of mentions of murder (ask me to add)

Eight nights passed before Ophelia reappeared.

Eight nights since she’d been cast out of that cabin.

Eight nights since she’d been made a wolf.

Eight night thinking about how she was going to end Ophelia’s life.

She knew it had been eight nights, because she’d been counting. Each evening when she awoke, she’d drag a twin over to the water tank and lay it beside the one from the previous evening.

Each evening, she’d wonder how many twigs she’d lay out before she found a way in.

On this evening, the ninth evening, a thought crossed Daisy’s mind: what if she laid out so many twigs she gave up laying them out? What if it took so long she lost count of the days? It was a terrifying thought, and it made Daisy’s heart sink and her spirit fall.

She didn’t want to be stuck as a wolf her whole life. She wanted to be a girl again. She was a girl, dammit, and Ophelia had no right to change that. Daisy snarled and spat at the base of where she knew the barrier started, silently cursing her former guardian. A renewed anger flowed through her, making her feel a little bit better.

Lifting her chin, Daisy turned and began to stalk off in search of prey, when the opening of the cabin door made her halt, perk her ears up and whirl around. She narrowed her eyes when she saw Ophelia exit, sauntering up to the barrier.

“Adjusting well, Daisy?” she asked tauntingly. Daisy bared her teeth, letting out a low growl. She arched her back, ready to lunge at Ophelia in a second. True, Daisy wouldn’t be able to get to her, but it would be worth it to see the look of terror on her face.

“What do you want, Ophelia?”

Ophelia smiled at her, almost...amused by her.

“Still as feisty as you were as a human.” Daisy snarled, saliva dripping from her mouth. This only broadened Ophelia's smile. “I just thought you’d like to know: I’ve implemented a new protocol. This protocol will send any traitors within Hydra out here, to this cabin. And, of course, since they can’t get in, feel free to eat them for your dinner. After all, they don’t deserve to live.”

“Then come a little closer,why don’t you?” Daisy challenged. Ophelia chuckled at her comment. _Chuckled_. The nerve…

“Oh, poor, sweet, naive Daisy,” Ophelia patronised. “I’m doing this for your own good. One day, you will learn: defiance will be punished, and compliance will be rewarded.”

Daisy launched herself forward, up off her feet, and flew through the air, heading right for Ophelia. She heard the scream, and watched as Ophelia fell backwards onto her bottom. She stretched out her legs and landed _splat_ against the invisible wall, like a cartoon dog. She tumbled to the ground, landing on her back, and rolled over, pushing herself up.

Daisy grinned when she saw the horrified look on Ophelia’s face before she was able to gain control of her expression.

“You were saying?” Daisy teased, raising her tail threateningly in the air. Ophelia let out a ‘harrumph’, and picked herself up, glaring at Daisy.

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Daisy lazily lowered herself to the ground. “I’m not an expert at magic, but I’m pretty sure that you can’t come to this side of the barrier, either. And even if you could, there’s no way you could get back.”

She grinned smugly at Ophelia letting her tail gently swish back and forth against the ground. Ophelia again glared at her, then turned and marched back into the house. Daisy giggled to herself as she looked at the mud and leaves all over Ophelia’s butt. She looked far less scary with her hair and butt messed up.

Once the door closed, Daisy rose to her feet and padded up to the water tank to have a drink. As she slurped up the water, she thought about what to eat. Did she want to eat the person that was being sent out? True, they worked for an evil organization, but still, _killing_ them seemed a bit extreme. But would it _really_ be considered murder since Daisy was technically a wolf now and not a human? Wait, would her eating a human be considered cannibalism?

Daisy stopped drinking, thinking about it.

Technically, no. She was a wolf, meaning whatever activities she engaged in would be as a wolf.

But she still had elements of her human self, namely her thoughts, personality and emotions.

But as a wolf, her animalistic instinct of hunt, kill, eat, would surely be more important than a personality.

But what about her soul? Did animals _have_ souls? If she still did, then eating the person sent out would be murder, and therefore immoral. But if she didn’t, then it didn’t matter, really.

Daisy shook her head, as if shaking out all of her thoughts. She was a wolf, being offered a free meal. Why did she have to be questioning the ethics of it? Maybe it was because it happened to be a human being. Or maybe it was because she wanted to prove she was better than murder and all the other things Hydra stood for. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because, even as a wolf, she had a good heart, just like her mother always said she…

Oh, _fuck_ , what if they were sending her mother?

She couldn’t eat her mom. Not even if she was starving. She would rather eat herself. Daisy found herself panicking. What if it _was_ her mom? She couldn’t be seen like this! Her mother would be expecting her beautiful little girl, not a warped and ugly wolf version of her.

Daisy caught herself as she started to hyperventilate, and forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. If it was her mom, she’d know what to do. She would comfort Daisy, and help her find a way inside.

Wait. A way inside. That was it! All she had to do was make whoever came, find a way into the cabin! It was brilliant. Daisy grinned to herself, sliding down off the ramp, and going in search of some small birds for breakfast.

“And then,” she reasoned to herself. “I don’t have to feel guilty for killing another kid’s parent. Or someone’s family member. And if they can’t find a way in, I can let them go so they can run away from Hydra.”

She felt pretty good about herself, until she had another thought: what if they refused to, swearing allegiance to Hydra?

“Well,” she decided, pouncing a yellow-feathered bird. “I’ll kill them. After all, defiance will be punished, and compliance will be rewarded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the bit of a wait. i just. couldn't be bothered writing, ya know.


	9. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have to wait until nightfall to leave, so Melinda spends the afternoon telling Phil everything and comforting two of the girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** deals with the fallout of forced family separation, mentions death of parents, mention of guns
> 
>  **Themes warning:** The themes of this chapter are quite heavy and mirror current events, although are not dealt with in depth. Nonetheless I would advise proceeding with caution.

They leave after nightfall.

They can’t leave during daylight hours; it’s too risky. Even if they were able to sneak out without detection, they could easily be seen on the road. No, night time is definitely safer. 

For this reason, Melinda decides to spend the rest of the afternoon explaining everything to Phil. He’ll be better equipped to help her if he knows everything. He’ll know exactly what he’s signing up for, and will be less likely to bail when things inevitably get crazy and chaotic.

Currently, Melinda’s just finished telling him everything, and she’s reading a magazine, patiently waiting for him to process all of it. It’s a lot, and they don’t need to leave for a few hours yet.

“So, let me get this straight,” Phil says slowly. “The Agency was really an evil Nazi organisation that stole kids from their parents, punished parents by killing them while turning the kids into soldiers, and our daughter - who I didn’t know existed before today - was one of them but was lucky enough to get out, and now we’re going in search of her and the parents of the kids you brought with you?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Melinda affirms, laying the magazine down. “Any questions?”

“Uh, yeah, a lot! Like, how do you know our daughter is still alive? Add to that, how do you know if these kids’ parents are still alive? If all are alive, how are we going to find them? What’s the plan? And what are we going to do if some of those Nazis find out we saved a bunch of kids and come after us?”

“We’re leaving for the Eden Woods tonight,” Melinda explains calmly. “There, we’ll camp out. In the morning, we’ll head to the cabin and see if there’s any clues as to where my...our daughter is. If there is, we follow that trail. And, if by some miracle she’s there, we bring her along on our search for the kids’ parents.”

“And if she’s not there?”

“Then we multitask. We search for her while we search for the kids’ parents.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out when we get to it,” Melinda says shortly, not wanting to think about failure as an option. She doesn’t think she could bear it if she failed. She can tell Phil knows what she’s thinking, and he reaches over, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t speak, which she’s grateful for, and she, too, reaches up, placing her hand on top of his. It’s a small touch, but it means a lot to each of them.

“When are we leaving?” Phil asks after a long silence.

“Tonight. Can’t risk going out during the day.”

“Right.” Phil drops his hand and Melinda instantly misses the pressure. “What do I need to pack?”

“We’ll need the family tent, plus enough bedding for six people, bring the guns - don’t give me that look, I know you have a license and a secret compartment at the back of your closet where you stash them - withdraw all your money, we’re going to need it, bring some towels, we’ll need a couple burn phones, make sure to bring plenty of warm clothes, a first aid kit, a couple of hairbrushes and combs, plus hair ties and bobby pins, and pack that build-a-raft kit, too, we may need that. Then, just whatever other items you think we could need for this trip.”

“O-Okay.” 

Phil stands and walks away, clearly a bit shocked by some of the items on the list. Melinda sighs, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, only to look up again when Hope’s voice comes from right beside her.

“Are we going to find my dad?”

Melinda jumps, startled by the sudden interruption, but she recovers quickly and nods. “We’re going to find my daughter, and find your dad, and Ace’s parents, as well as Katya’s and Robin’s.”

“My mom got sent to Eden,” Robin says from the doorway. Both Melinda and Hope turn to her. “My dad died when I was little.”

“How long ago?” Melinda asks softly, swallowing the lump in her throat. 

Robin shrugs. “Three months. Mister Bakshi told me.”

Melinda opens her arms, feeling as if her heart was being torn to shreds inside her chest. “Come here, sweetie.”

Robin does as she’s told, curling up in Melinda’s embrace. Melinda hugs her tight. She looks down at Robin’s face as she tilts her chin to to look at Melinda.

“I know my mom isn’t coming back,” she says as if reciting a fact. “Will you be my mom now?”

Melinda nods, unsure what else to do. She couldn’t just stick Robin and the others in the foster care system and forget about them. They deserved better than that. They deserved better than what they’d gotten. 

Both Melina and Robin shift when Hope forces her way into the hug.

“What?” Hope asks innocently. “I like hugs, too.”

Melinda laughs and embraces Hope, too. 

“I think we all like hugs,” Melinda says softly.

“Hugs are nice,” Robin agrees.

“Are you really gonna help me find dad?”

“I promise,” Melinda promises, looking directly at Hope. “That I am going to do everything in my power to find him.”

Hope nods, content with the promise. “Thanks. I miss dad.”

“I know. But I’ll take very good care of you until we can get you back to him, okay?”

“Okay.”

That night, at quarter to eight o’clock, Melinda bundles the children into the car (which has tinted windows, thank heavens), takes the keys from Phil, and drives them two hours up to the Eden Woods, to begin their search.

She’s not sure what’s waiting for her, but what she is sure of is that nothing is going to stop her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write, and I almost didn't publish it due to recent events, but I thought it would be good to because I thought we might all be able to do with a story that has a happy ending. And to do that, I needed to write this. So yeah, will update asap and hopefully provide us all with some much-needed hope.


	10. Killed A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy is forced to confront her human-ness even in her wolf form, when she kills a man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** blood and gore, canon typical violence

The first came that night. 

It was about three o’clock in the morning, by Daisy’s guess. She padded forward almost silently as she heard a car pull up a few yards away behind a cluster of trees that hid the cabin from the outside world. She could see the headlights, and as she drew closer, she could hear the voice of a man being forced out of the car.

“Do I have to be here,  _ now _ ? Why can’t it wait until morning?”

“Boss’ orders,” one of the guards barked, throwing the equipment out of the car. “Now get to work.”

The door slammed and the car rolled away, leaving the man in complete darkness until he was able to find his flashlight and turn it on. He shone it in the direction of the cabin, looking forward nervously. Daisy waited. She didn’t want to reveal herself just yet; she wanted to pounce at the opportune moment.

The man sighed, putting his flashlight down and climbing into a big, bulky hazard suit. Daisy tilted her head. What exactly did they think laid inside the wood? All they really had to worry about was a wolf and a sadistic witch. Nothing biologically toxic. 

After suiting up, the man collected up his equipment and trundled forward. Daisy followed a few feet off, staying behind him and out of sight. She could hear him gasp as he came across the cabin, illuminated in a soft, warm, green light. 

For some reason, Ophelia liked to make the house gow green at night. Daisy thought it was to taunt her; remind her of all she’d lost because she refused to obey Ophelia. 

Daisy halted when the man did, thinking of what her next move should be. She had to reveal herself, but how to? Should she speak before she showed herself, or should she show herself before she spoke, or should she do both at the same time?

She thought about it for a bit, then decided she should speak before she revealed herself. The man had a camera, and she didn’t want to be caught on camera. If word got back to the Agency...to Hydra, they’d surely kill her mother for helping her escape. She didn’t know how they’d figure it, but she knew they would. 

She just knew they would.

She had to fly below the radar. 

She slipped behind one of the bushes, where the man wouldn’t see her and stifled a giggle as he bumped into the invisible barrier, falling back flat onto his bottom. She swallowed another laugh as he struggled to get back to his feet. 

“You can’t just go in there,” Daisy said simply as he regained his balance. He whirled around shining his flashlight towards where he thought the sound came from. Daisy didn’t say any more, slinking along behind some other bushes so the flashlight didn’t catch her.

“W-Who said that?” the man called. “Who’s there? Sh-Show yourself!”

“No,” Daisy answered, watching as his head whipped around to follow her voice. “You don’t get to see me until you clear a path for me into the cabin.”

“Who are you?” the man demanded. “I-I won’t until you show yourself!”

Daisy sighs, slinking back around to the other side. She emerged from her hiding spot and pounced the man, standing on his back so he couldn’t get up.

“There. I’ve shown myself. Now,” she knocked his helmet off with her nose, “you’re going to get me inside that cabin, and I don’t kill you. Understood?”

“Wh-Who are y-y-ou?” the man blubbered out, and Daisy sighed, stepping off. 

“I’m no one,” she answered softly, feeling guilty about making him this scared. No one deserved to be as scared as he was, even if he was Hydra. She watched as he struggled to stand. “I just...I need to get inside. Please.”

He turned and looked at her. She stared back. 

“Y-You’re a wolf. B-But how can…”

“It’s a long story. Just let me in there.  _ Please _ .”

He considered her, brushing himself off. He looked almost sympathetic for a second, but then that expression was gone, replaced with a cold, unforgiving gaze. 

“I take orders from the Agency, not some small and pathetic wolf.”

She heard the gun before she saw it, and she threw herself to the side before he even had it out. She leapt in the air as he fired a shot, and she felt the bullet whizz past her tail. He raised his gun to fire a second shot, but she sunk her teeth into his neck before he could squeeze the trigger. They both fell to the ground, Daisy on top, and the gun tumbled out of his limp hand. 

All this happened in about one second.

Daisy recoiled in horror as she realised what she had done. She had just killed a person. Someone who probably had a family. Yes, he remained loyal to the Agency, but still, it felt wrong. Daisy raced up to the water tank, needing to get the taste of blood from her mouth, the tangy crisp flavour suddenly turning sour. 

She greedily lapped up the water, wincing as the blood was washed down her throat. After her speedy drink, she slid back down to the ground and began to shake. 

She’d just killed a man.

She felt tears burn in her eyes, and her legs felt weak. She thought she might throw up. Acting on impulse, she turned and ran. She didn’t know where, but she just needed to get away from the murder she’d just committed.

Once she slowed to a halt, Daisy sank down into the long grass and cried. She’d killed a man. She didn’t know how long she cried, but once it was out, she was able to think more clearly. She lay and thought through what had happened.

She’d killed a man.

She’d killed a man, but it had been in self-defense. He was Hydra, and he would have killed her if she didn’t act. It was either him or her. But it still didn’t feel  _ right _ . Even as a wolf, it didn’t feel right. 

Then it dawned on Daisy: that was part of her punishment. Ophelia left her human morality in her to make it deliberately difficult to live as a wolf. To make... _ this _ difficult. It was cruel and sadistic, and made Daisy’s heart feel tight in her chest, and a new wave of anger rolled over her. She let out a low growl as she stood to her feet and prowled back towards the cabin, having only Ophelia's murder on her mind. 

Daisy decided then and there that yes, she would eat the corpse of the man she had just killed, but every bite was going to be a reminder of why she was angry at Ophelia. Every bite was going to bring Ophelia one step closer to her doom. 

Ophelia would regret turning her into a wolf. Daisy was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes I know it's kind of similar to the last Daisy chapter, but there's a difference between planning what you're going to do and how you'll react to what you actually end up doing and how you actually react. So yeah that's what I hoped to illustrate with the brief discussion of morality in this chapter.


	11. Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma does her best to convince Daisy that what Ophelia did to her was not her fault, and there are many more green sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** mild cussing at the end, allusions to abuse and references to what Ophelia did to Daisy, dead bodies levitating

“Wow. I, uh,  _wow._  That’s really-”

“Messed up?” Daisy offers, looking up at Jemma from her spot on the step. They’d started heading upstairs, but Daisy quickly changed her mind and had sat down on the stairs halfway up. She’d then told Jemma the whole story, which wasn’t that long, really.

“I was going to say the off-collar version, but yes,” Jemma agrees, sinking down next to Daisy. Daisy nods twice.

“Yeah. But it got easier after that night. I guess I just kinda stopped caring about eating them? I sorta developed this skill to become fully wolf when eating them and I just, I dunno, it’s hard to explain.”

“No, I get it,” Jemma assures her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Like a light switch. You learned how to tune out certain thoughts and feelings in order to get the job done.”

Daisy looks up. “Yeah. How did you-”

“Just something that comes from having to dig up secrets on an evil organisation you work for,” Jemma says lightly, trying to lift the mood a little. It works, at least a little bit - she gets a half-smile from Daisy.

The two lapse into silence, Daisy considering Jemma with her eyes. After she’s done, her lips one again twitch upwards.

“You know, you’re not so bad, Jemma Simmons.”

Jemma’s taken aback. “Oh, uh, well, thank you?”

Daisy brings a hand up to her mouth to stifle a giggle at Jemma’s reaction. Upon seeing her truly confused expression, Daisy stops and clears her throat.

“I, uh, everyone who was sent here, y’know, _before_ , were kind of jackasses, y’know? They never, I dunno, kind and hardworking like you. It’s kinda hard to explain. Like everything else.”

Jemma gasps as she remembers something Daisy said a few nights before when they’d first met.

“They were all men, weren’t they?”

Daisy raises her eyebrows. “You remembered that.”

“Yeah.”

Daisy nods, impressed. “Yeah, all the ones sent before were men. I dunno why. I guess men just have a greater penchant for trouble.”

“Or women are just better at getting away with it,” Jemma suggests boldly. Daisy looks even more impressed, and smirks.

“I suppose so.” Daisy’s voice and shoulders drop. “Like Ophelia.”

Jemma feels another pang of empathy for her. She shifts closer to Daisy and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“It’s over, Daisy. It’s okay.”

Daisy nods shortly, though her gaze remains low. She shakes her head.

“I should have known. I-I should have been able to hide my reaction and _do_ something about it, and-”

Jemma cuts her off by gently tucking her hand under Daisy’s chin and lifting it so Daisy’s looking at her.

“Daisy, what Ophelia did, that’s on _her_ . Not you. It is _not_ your fault.”

Daisy nods half-heartedly as she averts her gaze.

“Daisy, look at me,” Jemma commands gently. Daisy does so. “It is _not_ your fault. Say it: ‘it is not my fault’.”

Daisy sighs, pulling her head free and looking down again. Jemma waits.

“‘S not my fault,” Daisy mumbles a half-minute later. Jemma nods, mostly to herself.

“Louder.”

Daisy turns her head to look up. “I don’t wanna say it louder.”

“Too bad,” Jemma says, fighting a smile. “I’m not letting you leave this step until you say it like you mean it.”

“You’re not the boss off me.”

Daisy’s also fighting a smile. Jemma allows a small smile to crawl across her face.

“Right now I am. Now, say it.”

“No.”

“I’ll tickle you,” Jemma threatens, although it holds no venom. Daisy can’t help but grin.

“You’re gonna have to catch me first.”

Daisy’s up in a flash, racing back down the stairs and hallway, towards the kitchen. Jemma smiles and chases after her. Daisy’s surprisingly hard to catch, but she eventually manages to tackle Daisy onto the couch, where she begins tickling her. Daisy laughs and shrieks and squirms beneath her.

“S-S-S-Stop!” Daisy squeals in between laughs.

“Not until you say that what Ophelia did wasn’t your fault!” Jemma shouts over Daisy’s laughter. Daisy shrieks some incoherent words before she finally manages to string together a sentence.

“Uh-uh-uhncle! I’ll say it!”

Jemma stops tickling, but she doesn’t get off Daisy, just in case she backs out. Daisy takes a few seconds to catch her breath before looking at Jemma, then down at her own clothes, and fiddles with a loose thread.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Daisy repeats, a bit louder than last time.

“Louder.”

Daisy sighs. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Louder.”

Daisy rolls her eyes and looks up at Jemma. “How loud do I have to say it before you stop telling me to say it?”

“When you can say it in a way that makes me believe that you believe it, I’ll stop telling you to say it. You don’t have to actually believe it; you just have to make me believe you believe it.”

Daisy sighs again, dropping her eyes back to her top. Jemma waits patiently while Daisy searches for the conviction within herself. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Daisy speaks again, her tone soft yet strong.

“What Ophelia did to me was not my fault.”

Jemma knows she doesn’t really believe it, yet, but Jemma’s heart says Daisy does believe it. She just doesn’t know it yet. Jemma climbs off of Daisy and helps her up.

“Well done.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“You acknowledged it wasn’t your fault. And I know you don’t fully believe it yet, but even pretending you do for a moment is enough to start you on the path to start believing it.”

Daisy nods, smiling shyly. “Thanks, Jemma.”

Jemma smiles back. Her smile disappears as quickly as it came, though, when she sees a green crackling above the fireplace, right over Ophelia’s body still on the floor. Daisy turns her head to see.

The sparks grow, and Daisy’s hand finds its way into Jemma’s, and both women step back, watching. They watch as the sparks become a circle, which becomes bigger and bigger, until they’re looking into another world, one that looks much darker than theirs. They’re not entirely sure what they’re looking at, but it’s scary. They hold each other tighter and back up a few more paces.

They watch as Ophelia’s body lifts off the ground and floats through the air, through the portal into the other world. They watch as the portal closes, and the green sparks fizzle out, and they’re left alone in the living room. They turn to each other and gape, before looking back in the spot where the portal was.

Jemma can’t speak at all, she’s too shocked to. And all Daisy can say is:

“Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. My creativity decided to go on a bit of a holiday. I hopefully will get back to regularly updating now :)


	12. Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda goes to find water and cries about all the things she missed with her daughter. Phil and the kids are there to help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** references to the Agency, references to family separation

“You brought a laptop?”

“Yes?”

Melinda stares at Phil, dumbfounded. Why on earth would he bring a laptop on a search for her daughter and the parents of these kids? 

“Why?”

“I thought that maybe you could do some kind of tracking thing to help us find the people we need to find,” Phil explains weakly with a shrug. 

Melinda sighs, not sure whether to be proud of Phil’s initiative and thoughtfulness, or annoyed and angered at how dangerous his idea is. She decides upon taking a walk, to think it over. 

“I’ll be back,” she informs him, leaving the tent without another word. 

She pulls her coat tighter around herself as the cold and crisp morning air hits her skin. It’s about half past seven, and the sun is filtering through the frost-covered trees, making the forest light up like some sort of mystical land. This is one of the reasons Melinda likes camping; it’s so pretty in the mornings. 

She walks away from the tent where the children are still sleeping, and towards...somewhere. She’s hoping to find a body of water, to fill up their bottles with. They do have a good amount of water bottles in Phil’s car already, but it can’t hurt to refill the empty ones. She has no idea how long it will take them to find the cabin. They can’t take the car; it won’t fit in between these tightly-bunched groves of trees. They’ll have to walk.

Melinda slides her eyes over to the general direction in which they parked the car. It’s covered up by branches from a bush they had essentially relocated last night, to make the car look like a bush. She hopes it’s enough to deter the Agency from finding it and them. 

She walks for a while, making sure to mark the trees along her path so she can make her way back to camp once she’s found what she’s looking for. Her search pays off when she happens upon a little river that flows down from the mountaintop. The Eden Wood is essentially located on the mountaintop, so she figures the source of the river can’t be too far off. The water is safe. 

She kneels down next to the water and scoops a bit up in her hand, splashing it across her face. It’s freezing, but that’s to be expected at this time in the morning. She remembers many times her parents had taken her camping in the mountains. In the mornings, her and her dad would go on walks like these to find water and he’d splash her and she’d splash back, and it would turn into a little war, until they were both sufficiently wet. Then, they’d race back down to camp to change before they caught a cold and her mother scolded both of them for engaging in such “reckless behaviour”.

She chuckles at the memories and gets up, swiping at her face with her coat sleeve. Time to head back to camp before the children woke, or before Phil started worrying about her. As she walks away, she wonders if her daughter would have enjoyed such camping trips.

At the thought of this, her heart falls. There were so many experiences she missed. They never got to go camping, or build a blanket fort and watch a movie, or eat breakfast in bed together, or go to the fair and steal each other’s cotton candy, or-

Melinda’s thoughts trail off when she realises her cheeks are freezing. She reaches up and feels her face, surprised to find it wet. It’s then that she realises she had been crying. She’s too stunned and confused to do anything except to stop and look around. She spots the tent not too far off to the right, and she comes to the realisation she hadn’t been paying attention to where or how long she had been walking.

But that doesn’t matter as she remembers why she stopped in the first place. 

Her daughter. 

Her baby.

Melinda misses her so much. Another wave of sadness rolls over her, and she brings her hand back up to her mouth to stifle a sob. She falls back against a tree and sinks to the ground, overcome with grief. She can get back to camp later. Right now, she needs to cry. 

She doesn’t think she’s there awfully long, but it’s apparently long enough for all four of the kids to come after her. 

“Mom?”

Melinda’s head shoots up at Robin’s voice. She sees all four of them standing above her awkwardly. She looks away and swipes at her eyes to dry as many tears as she could. She looks back at them, attempting a smile.

“Hey. How did you all sleep?”

“Phil sent us,” Katya explains, ignoring the question. “He said you’d been over here too long to be okay.”

“Why didn’t he come himself?” she asks, trying not to sound angry. Phil had always had this...infuriating habit of being too cowardly to express deep and meaningful emotions, such as romantic love, or profound grief, or anything like that. It irked Melinda to no end.

“He says it’s a surprise,” Katya says. Melinda raises her eyebrows. She had not been expecting that.

“He told us to bring you these,” Hope adds. 

The children each produce an item for her. Katya gives her some mittens to warm her hands. Hope gives her a beanie to warm her head. Ace gives her a pack of tissues to dry her eyes. Robin gives her a scarf to warm her neck, before kneeling down in the dirt next to her to give her a hug. Melinda doesn’t hesitate to hug back.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Robin whispers. Melinda nods, choking back more tears burning her eyes. Hope joins her in the hug, followed by Katya, and eventually Ace. 

Despite grieving the lost years with her daughter, Melinda can’t help but smile. She may not have her daughter just now, but she has them, hugging her, and telling her that she’s not alone. That’s all she can really ask for.

When her bottom starts to get numb, she gently nudges the children off. “Come on. I feel better and it’s time to get back to camp.”

The children get up and it’s Robin who catches her when she stumbles trying to stand. She smiles down at the little girl who smiles back. She remembers back, to when she was first interrupted and Robin called her something.

“You called me ‘mom’,” she breathes out in awe. Robin nods, clearly confused.

“You said you’d be my new mommy.”

Melinda’s heart melts and she nods. “I did. I am. It’s just a nice feeling to be called ‘mom’, is all.”

“Okay.” Robin smiles. “Come on, Phil’s surprise is waiting for you.”

She lets Robin and the others lead her back to the tent, where Phil is indeed waiting. He grins when he sees her and holds out a thermos to her.

“I made you hot chocolate. Thought you might be cold after being away so long.”

Melinda grins back and eagerly accepts the drink from him. The truth of the matter is: she’s freezing. No matter how annoyed she gets at him, she loves his thoughtfulness just as much. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, as for the laptop, the kids have figured out how to set up something called a hotspot? And we can figure out how to track-”

“Too risky.” Melinda shakes her head. “The moment we’re online, The Agency can find us. I can’t risk that.”

“But-”

“Our  _ daughter _ , Phil,” she cuts in. “If not for the sake of us, or these kids, do it for our daughter. We can’t have them follow us just to take our daughter away the moment we get her back.”

Phil looks crestfallen and sighs. “You’re right. It was a stupid idea. I just thought, you know, if we could get it done faster…”

“I know.” She reaches out and puts a hand on his. “But the risk is just not worth it.”

“But how are we going to find our parents if we can’t track them?” Ace wonders aloud. Melinda and Phil turn to her, then to each other. That was a damn good question, that neither knows the answer to. Melinda has’t exactly thought that far ahead. So, she simply turns to Ace and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Very carefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if any non aussies reading this know what a thermos is, but in case it's a purely aussie thing a thermos is a cup that keeps your hot drink warm for like several hours.


	13. What To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy has a panic attack and Jemma discovers a ginormous chest filled with magic things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** mild cursing, alcohol drinking

“What the hell was that?”

Daisy’s gone pale and she looks like she might faint. Jemma helps her sit down before that happens, and she notices Daisy’s breaths becoming shorter. She grabs Daisy’s hands and squeezes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jemma soothes. “We’ll figure this out, we-”

“No,” Daisy cuts in. “Ophelia, she...I…”

She trails off, gulping in a big breath of air. Jemma furrows her brow, watching as Daisy begins to shake. She opens one of Daisy’s fists and notices it damp with sweat. She looks up at Daisy’s eyes, seeing them unfocused and...restless for lack of a better word. She acts instinctively, closing Daisy’s fist and squeezing.

“Daisy, if you can hear me, nod once.” Daisy nods once. “Okay, so we’re going to do some breathing together. I know it’s hard but we are going to get through this. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Ready? Okay, in...two...three...four...out...two...three...four...very good.”

She continues to coach Daisy while gently reassuring her, until Daisy’s breathing returns to normal, if a little shaky. She looks at Jemma, her eyes with fear and shining with unshed tears.

“I...what happened?”

“Panic attack,” Jemma explains calmly. 

“I...what? But I never had…” Daisy trails off, grappling with the words she can’t quite find.

“You probably didn’t have much to worry about as a kid, you didn’t know about what was going on,” Jemma suggests. 

“But as a wolf…”

“Perhaps it was the wolfish instinct to survive and generally not having time to panic that prevented the panic attacks.”

“Uh huh.” Daisy nods absent-mindedly, then shakes her head, snapping back into reality. “I didn’t like it.”

Jemma hums sympathetically, getting her to lean back. “Panic attacks aren’t a lot of fun. Wait here, I’ll get you some food. From my understanding, panic attacks are very draining.”

She ducks into the kitchen and makes a sandwich for Daisy, and returns to find Daisy curled up in a ball on the couch. Jemma sits down beside her, putting the sandwich down on the table. Daisy peeks at it and looks timidly at Jemma.

“I, uh, don’t like the crusts,” she admits in a small voice. Jemma cracks a smile at that. 

“Okay.” She goes back to the kitchen and retrieves a knife, cutting the crusts off. “There you go. No crusts.”

Jemma drapes a blanket over Daisy and watches with a smile as Daisy’s hand sneaks out from beneath the blanket and snags the sandwich. Jemma begins rubbing a hand on Daisy’s leg comfortingly as Daisy greedily devours the sandwich. 

“Have you had a panic attack?” Daisy asks. Jemma shakes her head.

“No. But I have done a lot of research on them, so I can help people who are affected by them.”

Daisy nods wearily. “Thanks.”

Jemma pats her leg twice as Daisy’s eyes droop closed. “Have a rest. I promise I won’t leave you, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She thinks Daisy is asleep by the time she finishes her sentence. She smiles fondly at Daisy and stands, taking the plate back to the kitchen, washing it and putting it away. She returns to the living room, starting to think through what to do with the portal. 

There’s no dirt or burns, or any trace of evidence that a portal opened in the living room. The only evidence is that they saw it and Ophelia’s body is gone. So, where to begin?

Jemma thinks the chest in the corner is a good place to start searching for clues. Heaving and grunting softly as not to awake Daisy, she hauls it out of its spot and into the middle of the room so she can open it. She takes a moment to catch her breath before kneeling down in front of it and opening it.

She coughs as some dust and the smell of old paper smacks her in the face. She waves away both and glances over the contents. Her jaw drops as she looks in. It looks like it’s several yards deep on the inside, yet it’s only about three feet high on the outside.

“How in the world…?” 

She double and triple checks, to make sure she’s not being silly. She pinches herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. She quickly finds she’s not being silly or dreaming. She blinks and shakes her head, trying to decide whether a talking wolf, a portal to another world, or a chest larger on the inside than the outside is the weirdest thing she’s experienced in these past two days.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she mutters, pressing the palm of her hand to her head. She shuts the chest and stands, deciding she needs a drink. 

Jemma finds the drinks in the kitchen with very little trouble, and she pours herself a glass of vodka, chugging it down. She feels the effects almost instantly and she lets out a relieved breath. 

“Better,” she murmurs to no one in particular. She puts her glass in the sink to clean later and returns to the living room to have another look. 

This time, she’s prepared for the sight of the chest, and she takes a look at what’s inside.It’s full of strange objects she’s never seen before. They look rather medieval to her. She begins to pull them out one by one, turning them over in her hands. Some are much heavier than she thought. Those ones she examines on the floor.

Once all the weapons and strange objects have been pulled out and scattered across the floor, Jemma sees stacks and stacks of paper and notes and books down the bottom. She pulls her lips to one side. There’s no way she can get down there to retrieve them and climb out again all by herself; the chest is too deep.

She glances over at Daisy. She’s still having a nap. She’ll have to find another way. 

Jemma looks around and spots some rope conveniently laying in the corner. She acts fast, tying one end of the rope around something she knows will hold, and the other end around herself in a harness-type fashion. Taking a deep breath, she steps backwards into the chest, slowly abseiling down until her feet touch the ground. There’s still about three feet of slack rope, which she is glad for; a wedgie is not something she had in mind for her little expedition.

She picks up the first book and flips through the pages, furrowing her brow when she finds it full of strange runes and spells and symbols. She almost tosses it aside when she pauses. What if it’s important to unravelling the secret of the portal. And what if there are way many more secrets about this place? 

Jemma decides its a good place to start and she looks back up, her heart sinking when she realises she did not think this through at all. How is she supposed to climb back up while holding a book? Add to that, how is supposed to scale the wall of the chest using just her core body strength and a rope? 

“Oh, dear.”

As if on cue, she hears Daisy’s voice above.

“Jemma?”

“Down here!” Jemma shouts, waving her hand. Daisy’s face appears at the opening and Jemma gives another little wave. Daisy looks from her, to the living room, back to her, at the rope, and finally back at Jemma before bursting into laughter.

“You did not think this one through, did you?” Daisy wheezes, using the side of the chest to hold herself up. Jemma glares at her.

“Oh as if you’d have actually thought of a plan before diving in here.”

Daisy stops laughing, although she’s still grinning. “Okay, fair point. I’m just saying: curiosity killed the cat.”

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Jemma finishes shortly. “Now, please help me get out.”

“Don’t you wanna get the books and stuff first?”

Jemma looks over at the stacks of stuff Daisy’s motioning at. She does have a point. She looks back at Daisy.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

Daisy grins, disappears, and returns shortly after with a basket attached to a thinner rope. “Basket system.”

She drops it down, and Jemma sighs, begrudgingly filling it with books and paper and notes. Daisy pulls it up, retrieves the stuff, and lowers the basket that Jemma refills. They repeat until everything hiding on the bottom of the chest has been lifted out. 

“All done!” Jemma informs Daisy. 

“Cool. Ready to come up now?”

“Yes  _ please _ .” Jemma’s getting pretty tired of being stuck in the chest. 

Daisy disappears and Jemma expects a tug of the rope, but instead, she sees Daisy reappear, holding a stick and one of the books she sent up. Before she can ask what Daisy is doing, Daisy speaks.

“I command friend to my hand.”

Jemma finds herself flying up and out of the chest, where she lands right on top of Daisy, knocking the wind out of both of them. They lay side by side, catching their breath. Jemma speaks first.

“That hurt.”

“Yeah I, uh, may have underestimated the power of that spell…”

Jemma sits upright. “The spell that you never thought to use while I was down there loading things into a basket?!”

Daisy grins at her. “What? And miss making you suffer a bit?”

Jemma glares at her and Daisy rolls over onto her bottom, shuffling backwards.

“Plus, if I’d used it, we’d be cleaning up a mess of paper everywhere,” she offers quickly. Jemma stops glaring and considers. It would be a mess. She backs down. 

“I suppose.”

Jemma settles down beside her, her mind racing with what to do next. Daisy interrupts her thoughts.

“Wacky chest, huh?”

Jemma huffs a laugh. “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

Daisy laughs, too. “This whole day has been wacky. And that’s coming from a girl who spent the last...however long it’s been as a wolf.”

“You’re telling me,” Jemma sighs. “I mean, before two days ago, the craziest thing I had heard was that a state had banned plastic straws.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Something to do with saving the environment,” Jemma explains with another sigh. “Which is ridiculous; straws aren’t even on the list for what creates the most waste.”

She drops her head against the wall and she hears Daisy do the same thing. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, right?” Jemma turns her head towards Daisy. “And don’t even get me started on why it’s a form of discrimination against disabled people.”

Daisy hums and they lapse into silence. Jemma takes the opportunity to think again. The first thing they have to do is find a place for the weapons and other bulky things they found in the chest. Then, they have to sit down and sort through the notes and books. Then they have to figure out how to do this whole magic-spell-casting-thing. And that’s all before they figure out what the portal is about, what happened to Ophelia, and what that other world is. She sighs. There’s so much to do.

“So, where do we start?” Daisy asks, turning to face Jemma. Jemma casts one look around the living room and shakes her head, standing up. They’ll need energy before they can even begin to sort through this mess. She helps Daisy up and tugs her towards the kitchen.

“Dinner.”


	14. Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Jemma begin to sort through all the stuff they dug up from the chest, and receive an unexpected visitor

Following dinner, they reenter the room.

Jemma and Daisy stand in the doorway, looking over the clutter of various medieval-looking objects and papers strewn around the room. Neither of them speak until Daisy exhales slowly and turns to Jemma.

“So. Where do we start?”

Jemma sighs, reaching up to press the heel of her palm against her forehead. 

“The papers,” she decides. “To do anything with the rest of this stuff we first have to figure out what happened to Ophelia, what that place is, what these things are, how to use them, what we’re up again-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Professor,” Daisy cuts in, scoffing playfully. “I get it. We don’t know stuff, we gotta learn stuff.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” Jemma corrects, missing her playful tone. “Doctor Simm... _ oh _ . You were being silly.”

Daisy huffs a laugh. “You’re something else,  _ Doctor  _ Simmons.”

Daisy steps forward, missing Jemma’s embarrassed blush. She heads for the left side of the room.

“So, I’ll start on the left and work towards the right. You can start on the right and work towards the left.”

“Okay,” comes Jemma’s reply. Daisy plops down in amongst the papers and begins reading. Jemma wordlessly moves over to the right side and lowers herself to the ground, before copying Daisy.

The two work in relative silence. Neither talk, but there’s a fair bit of noise as they move papers around. Most of what Jemma reads is meaningless; just frivolous diary entries and doodles, not recording anything significant. She assumes by Daisy’s many sighs that she’s encountering the same problem.

Nevertheless, she keeps reading. They’re never going to find the answers they need if they give up now. Although, Jemma suspects Daisy will throw in the towel long before her. 

She’s proved wrong, of course. In the short time she’s known Daisy, she’s found that Daisy has annoying knack for consistently proving her wrong. It’s as infuriating as it is admirable. About two hours have passed before Jemma puts down the book she had been holding.

“I need a break. You want food?”

Daisy hums in the affirmative, never taking her eyes off the page. Jemma stands and stretches, heading for the kitchen to grab them both a piece of fruit when Daisy’s voice stops her.

“Wait.”

Jemma turns around. “Hmm?”

Daisy’s smiling at her, a relieved and excited sparkle in her eye. “I think I’ve found something.”

Jemma nearly trips over her feet to get to Daisy to see what she’s found.

“Show me!”

Daisy holds it up, and Jemma snatches it out of her hand, examining it. It’s a simple little blue book, there’s nothing overly significant about it. If she’d seen it amongst other books, she probably would have thrown it aside in favour of the other books. 

Its contents, however, are anything but ordinary. 

Inside is a detailed log of every event from the past seven years, starting with the day Daisy was turned into a wolf. Jemma gasps, flipping through the book, scanning the pages. She’s shocked at the amount of detail in the book.

“I...woah,” she breathes. She raises her eyes from the pages and looking at Daisy. Daisy nods.

“I know. What do you wanna do with it?”

“We have to find somewhere safe for it,” Jemma says. “This will be our starting point. We need a box for important documents…”

“I kept a box under my bed of the stuff I got to take with me when I left the Agency,” Daisy offers. “I think it’s still there, if Ophelia hasn’t done anything with it.”

Jemma hesitates. That box would contain the only memories Daisy has of her mother and early childhood. She can’t ask Daisy to give that up to keep a books safe. She could keep it under her pillow, or something.

“Are you sure?”

Daisy nods. Jemma can see some sadness in her expression, but it’s almost overpowered by the conviction shining through.

“I, uh, haven’t seen my mom in years. I don’t know what she’ll be like now. The memories are just that: memories. Plus, I  _ really _ want to find and kill Ophelia and whatever bigger thing she’s obviously a part of, so…”

Jemma smiles softly, grateful for Daisy’s offer.

“We’ll find a safe place for those memories,” she promises. “Just because your mother will have changed doesn’t mean you should get rid of your memories of her.”

Daisy nods, lowering her head. Jemma kneels down next to her, and coaxes Daisy into a hug. Daisy leans in, and Jemma can feel her squeeze her eyes shut. Daisy draws in a shaky breath, fighting back tears. Jemma hushes her gently, stroking her hair. 

“I miss her so much,” Daisy says in a whisper. 

“I know,” Jemma whispers back, holding her close.

“I really wish she was here.” Daisy looks up at Jemma, looking like a scared, sad, vulnerable little girl, rather than the angry adult Jemma had seen a lot of since she’d met Daisy. “I want my mom, Jemma.”

“Shh, I know, Daisy,” Jemma soothes, pressing Daisy’s head to her chest. She thinks Daisy is about to start crying when a noise from outside startles them both. 

“What was that?” Daisy whispers, her voice barely audible. 

“Don’t know,” Jemma says back, equally as quiet. She pulls back, motioning for the scythe. Very quietly, Daisy reaches over and grabs it, passing it over to Jemma. Jemma takes it and helps Daisy up, pushing her back against the wall, shielding her from the hallway.

There’s another loud snap from outside the cabin. Jemma holds a finger up to her lips as Daisy lets out a frightened. She leans in close to Daisy to whisper in her ear as quietly as humanly possible.

“Stay there. Don’t make any noise. Don’t even breathe too loudly.”

Daisy nods mutely, and Jemma slips away, across the hallway. She has a better view than Daisy, but she’s hidden from the intruder, or intruders. She holds her breath as she hears footsteps on the porch. The doorknob clacks as it’s turned. The door creaks as it’s pushed open. Jemma tenses. 

A woman enters, then a man, then...four children? That can’t be right. Surely no one with ill intentions would mean to hurt them? Unless the children were in on it? The thought sends a shiver down her spine.

“Are you sure she’s here?” the man asks, closing the door behind him. 

“Yes,” the woman says with a conviction that reminds Jemma of Daisy. 

“But how do you know, she could be-”

“I just  _ know _ , Phil. She’s my daughter, I always know where she’s hiding.”

Daughter? This woman had more children? And why would her daughter be here? Unless…

“Daisy?” the woman calls out quietly, holding a gun up to ward off unwanted faces. It clicks for Jemma who the woman is as Daisy pokes her head around the corner and into the hallway. Her face goes slack, her eyes filling with tears.

“Mom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, you're excited for a new chapter? Well, not as excited as my, let me tell you I fought with this chapter for WEEKS but it's DONE and I am PROUD of it and so EXCITED to share it with you and *excited pterodactyl screeching into the void*


	15. Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda doesn't want the children walking around in the dark, so they stop to set up camp. But as it turns out, they don't need to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** mention of a gun, but the gun is never used on anyone

It’s nearly nightfall again.

Melinda, Phil, Ace, Katya, Hope, and Robin have been walking all day, and they’re all exhausted. Melinda herself is feeling discouraged; she thought they’d have found the cabin by now. Glancing down at the paper with smudged coordinates of the cabin, Melinda sighs. They’re in the area that the cabin is in, but that area is three square miles big. She doesn’t want the kids walking around in the dark.

Phil’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mel. It’s a cabin; it’s not going anywhere. Let’s rest tonight, and then we can find it tomorrow, okay?”

Melinda nods, beginning to feel quite tired. She raises her finger and points.

“Let’s set up camp just over there. I want to be well-hidden from anyone who may be looking for us.”

Phil agrees, and Melinda leads them into a thick of trees, so close together, the last of the light is blocked out entirely. They have to use their flashlights to find their way through. By the time they do, and find some space to set up their tents under the cover of trees, it’s dark.

Melinda shrugs her day pack off and goes to unzip when Robin’s quiet voice catches her attention.

“Mommy, look!”

Melinda looks up, following Robin’s gaze with her eyes. She’s prepared for a wild animal, or Agency employees, or some kind of other threat. What she sees is none of those. What she sees is the cabin. She nearly laughs.

“Well, guess we don’t have to set up the tents,” Phil jokes, earning him a light slap on the bicep from Melinda. Phil just grins at her.

Melinda picks up her day pack and leads the group towards the cabin, a rush of feelings flooding her. Relief, knowing they’ve found the cabin. Apprehension, knowing there’s a chance her daughter may not be in there, and if she is, the chance she may not recognise her. Hope, knowing her daughter could be in there, and could recognise her. Fear, knowing there may be unfriendly people on the other side of that door.

Melinda pauses momentarily at the thought, but doesn’t stop long enough to let anyone else notice she’s stopped. Rather, she quietly reaches into the hidden pocket at the bottom of her daypack and stealthily pulls out her gun, just in case.

As she reaches for the door, she wants to tell them to be quiet, but no one’s speaking, anyway. She thinks they all might be a bit scared, too.

She carefully opens the door and steps through. Phil is right behind her, followed by the children. As soon as she’s in the hallway, she can tell something’s not right. Someone is here who shouldn’t be here. But she can also tell her daughter is here; she can feel it in her gut. Meaning her daughter is in danger. She raises her gun slightly and takes a step forward.

“Are you sure she’s in here?” Phil asks, and Melinda clenches her jaw. They’re supposed to be stealth, and he’s talking at a normal volume. Anyone here would have heard that. They don’t have the element of surprise anymore. At least she has bullets.

“Yes.”

“But how do you know, she could be-“

“I just  _ know _ , Phil,” Melinda says earnestly, a fond smile creeping its way up onto her face. “She’s my daughter, I always know where she’s hiding.”

She remembers well all the games of hide-and-seek they used to play, and how she would always think she hid well, but Melinda always knew where she was hiding. But Melinda had always pretended not to know for the sound of her giggles every time she’d walked past the hiding place, and the shrieks of laughter that came when Melinda finally did find her enthusiastically.

She really misses that smile, and she hopes with all her heart she’ll see it again tonight.

Phil shuts up after that, and Melinda moves forward slowly.

“Daisy?” she calls out softly, her gun raised in case someone else steps out. She waits, and is about to call out again, when a face appears from around the corner.

It’s her, Melinda knows it is. It can’t be anyone else.

Her eyes widen, and she gapes back at Melinda.

“Mom?”

Melinda can’t describe what she’s feeling. All she knows is she wants too to cry with joy. She drops her gun and runs to her daughter, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Daisy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but hey Melinda's a woman of few words so hey it works


	16. The Superior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia arrives back home, and returns to her master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warnings:** hints of people being eaten alive, children being sent off to be killed, but nothing explicit
> 
>  
> 
> Translations for made up words at the end of the chapter

She’s here. She’s finally here.

Ophelia closes her eyes, tilts her chin up and smiles as the heat from the sun hits her skin. She breathes deeply, taking in all the smells she remembers, and even some she’d forgotten. She stands like this for a long moment before lowering her head to take a good look around. 

It’s exactly the same as she remembers. The soft purple sky, the evermorph grass, the mitochondryads scuttling around, and of course, the Solace. It looks the same as she remembers it: a tall pillar reaching high into the sky, surrounded by curved metal strips pointing upwards, like a flower beginning to bloom. She knows there are many rooms within the strips, for those loyal to the Superior. She really hopes she gets one of those rooms. She has been loyal, but has she been loyal enough?

Ophelia shakes her head, as if shaking the thought from her head. Fear does not become her; fear is for the weak. It’s for people lacking the ambition to do what they have to do, without remorse. 

She takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back, banishing the beginnings of fear creeping into her mind. It’s time to face the Superior, and receive the rewards for her actions. She sets off towards the Solace.

The sun is setting by the time Ophelia reaches the entrance of the Solace - a massive golden double door, guarded by two dozen Oomflop. They’re grumpy, on good days, and deadly on all other days. Nonetheless, Ophelia strolls up to them, head held high, as if she owns the place. They only ever attack people who are trespassing. 

She makes it to the door, before she’s stopped. 

“ _ Imf, ooglong! _ ” a Oomflop growls from behind her. She stops and turns around to face him. “ _ Unchilma wertinpo.” _

“I have come home,” Ophelia says. “I’m here to report to the Superior.”

“ _ Thihhggpo?” _

“Madame Hydra.”

The Oomflop open their mouths, throw their heads back and let out a wail-like screaming sound. Ophelia raises her eyebrows. She had no idea they actually knew who she was, let alone what she had accomplished back on Earth. Her heart swells in pride, knowing she’d made an impression here while she was living her other life. 

She’s been a hero here for years, and she didn’t even know it. 

She smiles to herself, and steps through the doors, surprised by the smell of the corridors. They must be using a new cleaning product now. It smells fruity. She distinctly remembers it smelling like lavender last time. She’s not complaining, of course. The smell reminds her of Triolms. She wonders if they still grow Triolms. Triolms were good.

Looking around, Ophelia finds herself surrounded by a familiar building. A deep orange reception desk, with a Hapunit sitting behind it, staring straight ahead. She goes up to it, placing her hand on its square face.

“Welcome to the Solace, Hydra,” the Hapunit greets. “How may I assist you today?”

“I’m here to report to the Superior.”

“The Superior is currently on Floor One.” Of course he is. He’s always on Floor One. “Do you need directions?”

“No. I can find my own way.”

She walks away without waiting for a response from the Hapunit, and ignores the robotic voice that follows her to the elevator. She hits the forest green button on the wall and waits for the elevator up to the third floor. People rarely use the green elevator, because very few people who use it ever come back down. The Superior is known for, well, having a big appetite, and being a supervillain. 

A lot of people aren’t too keen about the combination.

The elevator dings as the doors open, and Ophelia steps inside. The doors are about to close again when a small creature launches itself inside, catching itself just in time to avoid hitting the back of the elevator. It stands upright, and Ophelia raises her eyebrows as she realises it’s a child. A small, brown-haired girl, aged about 11, Ophelia thinks.

She doesn’t speak to the child. There’s no need to. The girl must have simply found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up being sent Up. Happened all the time when Ophelia was here before. 

The child doesn’t speak to her either, but Ophelia can feel the child’s eyes on her. She doesn’t mind too much, it’s just curiosity. 

Together, they ride in silence up to the third floor, and follow a Raxitorian the rest of the way up to Floor One, to right outside the Superior’s chamber. Ophelia notes that the child is calmer than most other children when they’re sent Up. 

The Raxitorian leaves. Ophelia waits patiently for the door to open, and another Raxitorian to appear. 

“The Superior will see you now,” it drawls, stepping aside to let them in. “Please refrain from speaking unless you are spoken to.”

Stepping into the chamber is like stepping into another world. It looks completely different from last time she was here. She barely remembers to keep her expression neutral and not wrinkle her nose in disgust. 

“There, on the pads,” the Raxitorian instructs. Ophelia and the child do as they’re told, and the Raxitorian falls back into the shadows. Silence fills the room for so long, Ophelia begins to wonder if the Superior is even in right now. Just as she’s about to check if he’s in the room, his low, grumbly voice echoes off the walls.

“Ophelia, my dear,” he greets from behind the veil. “It has been too long. Come, let me see your face again.”

Ophelia moves forward, stepping up to the veil with a smile. It’s been too long since she’s seen him. 

“I’m glad to be back, master.”

“Still as pretty as ever,” he says happily. “I am afraid age has not been as kind to me.”

“Age doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things,” Ophelia says. “All that matters is your supremacy.”

“And just as kind,” he chuckles. “I have very much missed your kindness.”

“Is that why you redecorated?”

“Perhaps,” he sighs, before changing his tone. “Do you like it?”

“Not at all. Pink and orange are really not interior design colours.”

He laughs. “I suppose your first duty would have to be redecorating my chambers so that they’re fit for a king.”

“It would be my honor, master.”

She hears him chuckle again, and so gets a bit of a fright when his next words are harsh.

“You! Child! What is your name?”

Ophelia turns to see the child still waiting patiently on her pad. 

“Katya, sir. Katya Belyakov.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNN and that is the cliffhanger I am going to leave you with :) if you want to find out what, how, and why, you'll have to come back for the sequel which will be written sometime in the (hopefully near) future.
> 
>  
> 
> Imf, ooglong = stop, intruder/trespasser!
> 
> Unchilma wertinpo = state your business
> 
> Thihhggpo? = what is your name? (to note with this one, the 'hhgg' in the middle is essentially a growling noise)


End file.
